A/N: This one is especially for Monkey D. Conan, who brought up this classic trope and thought I could have fun with it. I definitely did, and I hope you all do too. :)

Lois doesn't like the way this advertising specialist keeps looking at Clark. She wouldn't say she's jealous, exactly, because Lois Lane does not get jealous, especially when there's a sparkly, expensive, gorgeous diamond ring on her finger that reminds her every day just how secure she is in her relationship. But this one, this Sara girl just rubs her the wrong way. Of course, it could be because every time she finishes talking to Clark—which, really, what business does Clark Kent have with advertising?—she hugs him tightly and her hands always slip a little too close to his ass for Lois's liking.

Clark is completely oblivious, of course. "She's just friendly," he said last night after Lois had jerked him into her office, irate because Sara had once again practically groped him in the bullpen. Seriously, it's like now that they aren't officially desk partners, everyone has forgotten they're engaged.

She scoffed. "Clark, that hug was more erotic than our movie nights."

His eyes widened, no doubt remembering the ice cream toppings she brought to their latest viewing of a movie neither one of them remembers. Then he smiled knowingly at her. "You're jealous."

"That is so not..." She crossed her arms. "No. I'm not jealous."

"Okay, good, because you have nothing to worry about." He grinned. "But if you were a little jealous, it would be kind of hot."

Despite his flirtatious reassurance, she ignored him and feigned sleep when he crawled into bed, kissed her neck, and nibbled on her earlobe as his hands ghosted across her sides. After almost five minutes of his sweet, sweet torture, she'd almost relented, but she'd squeezed her knees tightly together and waited until he sighed and kissed her cheek softly before pulling the blankets over himself and falling asleep.

She may not need to worry, but she sure as hell doesn't have to be happy about this whole thing.

And then he accepted this morning when Sara asked him to lunch! And when Lois had casually mentioned that she would just tag along, he did that thing where he turns really red and tugs uncomfortably at his collar and mumbles until she changes her mind or grabs his arm and does what she wants anyway. When she'd suggested the bumbling reporter secret identity thing all those months ago, she didn't know she'd be creating a monster.

Luckily for him (and Sara), Lois has a one-on-one interview with the governor this afternoon to prepare for and she had already planned to have a sandwich at her desk today while she reviews her notes. Of course, she'd also planned on having Clark for dessert… But desserts always go straight to your hips and she definitely does not have time for that.

She tries to remind herself that Clark is in love with and engaged to her. He's just being nice to Sara. Of course he said he would have lunch with her; he knows how busy Lois is today and Sara probably didn't have anyone else to eat with. Clark Kent is a good guy. But he's her good guy and Sara would do well to remember that.

Damn it. She is totally jealous.

She picks at her sandwich without really tasting it and leaves for her interview before Clark and Sara return from lunch.

Her interview with the governor goes off without a hitch and she is once again grateful for a job that she loves—and kicks ass at—to distract her from all the crazy in her life, most of which is associated with Clark. Not that she'd have it any other way, of course.

She returns to the Planet a little before five and stops by Clark's desk to check in before she barricades herself in her office to write her story before Perry puts the paper to bed for the night. She's in such a good mood that she's practically already decided to have sex with him tonight. Sara the Advertiser be damned, Lois deserves an orgasm.

His desk chair is empty, though, and his jacket and briefcase are both gone. To make matters worse, Cat Grant is sitting at Lois's old desk, twirling a pink feathered pen between her fingers. "Looking for Clark?" Cat chirps.

"Clearly." Lois doesn't try to mask the acid in her tone.

Cat leans forward and grins wickedly. "Well. I was wondering if there was something up between the two of you because he's been spending an awful lot of time with Sara from advertising… And he took off with her for lunch and never came back." Cat sits back in her chair, happy that her barb has been successfully delivered, and watches for Lois's reaction.

"Yeah, they're friends." She will not give Cat the satisfaction of seeing her upset, though, so she shrugs, spins on her four-inch stilettoes and marches back to her office.

She's going to kill him.

She writes her story in record time and then spends the rest of the evening texting Chloe as she watches episode after episode of some TV show on Netflix that is just interesting enough to be distracting. She knows she has to go home eventually, but she isn't looking forward to seeing Clark again because the only words she has for him are words she never thought she'd have to say.

Around eight, her phone rings. Clark.

She slides her thumb across the screen to unlock it and presses the device to her ear. "Lois Lane."

"Um, h-hi," he stammers, no doubt taken aback by the icy way she'd answered. "Hey, it's Clark. Listen, I could use your help in the copy room if you aren't too busy."

Lois studies her fingernails. "Where's Sara? She isn't around to help you?"

He sighs on the other end of the line. "Okay, you're still pissed about that, but just—"

"'Pissed,' Clark?" She stands up from her chair, free hand balled into a fist, and paces. "I am not 'pissed.' I'm furious, I'm livid, I'm—Okay fine. I'm coming down there. We need to have this conversation in person." She disconnects the call and marches to the elevator, jamming the button four times with her thumb as if it will make the car arrive any faster. When the doors finally slide open and she presses the button for the copy room, she forces herself to take in a few deep breaths. Berating Clark the first time she spoke to him wasn't exactly how she planned to handle this whole thing. She'd planned to bring up the subject quietly and calmly, because as passionate and fiery as she is, she doesn't want to come across as the crazy, jealous girlfriend. Although, clearly, she is.

The elevator dings, indicating her arrival to the copy room and she swallows hard before she steps out.

Clark stands just in front of the elevator, his hands shoved in his pockets, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up around his elbows, exposing his forearms. He knows that drives her crazy. "Lois," he greets her softly and opens his arms to her.

She holds out her hands, heading off his advances, and steps around him so that she's facing the elevator. Lois is the queen of quick escapes. "No. I have something I need to say first."

"If you'll just let me explain about Sara—"

"All right, look, Smallville." Lois jumps in because if she doesn't get this out immediately, if she steps into his arms and lets him kiss her, she may never find the strength to do what needs to be done. "I know you have this whole perfect male physique thing going on… Must be nice to not have to care about calories and fat. And, I mean, look at you—you're like six-feet-something of delicious double fudge brownie chunk ice cream walking around and, hey, what girl can refuse double fudge brownie?"

"Lois…" he says quietly.

She plows ahead. "And I get that you're hot, what with the pecs and the arms and the perfect teeth and piercing eyes and the hair that just does that thing…" Her hands flap uselessly in the air as she describes the physical attributes she'd fallen for at nineteen, long before she was ready to admit it, and even longer before she knew there was anything deeper buried under the surface. "And yes, I knew that inevitably other women would take notice and maybe try to seduce you. I just didn't think I would go as crazy over it as I did. But I won't apologize. Because okay, I'm not blonde and short and adorable—"

"Lois…"

"Let me finish. As much as I try to convince myself that you're just being nice because that's what you do…" She pauses momentarily and shakes her head. "Look, here's the point: I wake up every day and look in the mirror and wonder what you're doing with me when you can walk outside and have literally anyone you want. So, if you want to see other people, I understand." A giant lump rises in her throat as she slides the most perfect diamond ring from her finger and holds it out to Clark.

Clark chuckles a little and rubs his forehead. "Lois, put the ring back on."

She furrows her brow, but does as he says.

"Lois… Sara works in advertising and because she has so many contacts, she was able to help me with something… For you. You don't need to worry about me wanting anyone else. It's you. It's always been you, and it always will be." He steps to her and she can't make herself back away. She's always felt more at home in Clark's arms than anywhere else and as upset as she's been all day, the only thing she's wanted is for him to tell her everything is going to be okay. He presses a kiss to her forehead. "Turn around."

His hands slide to her waist and she pivots in his arms. She'd come off the elevator so quickly she hadn't noticed that the lights in the copy room are dimmed, or that there are tiny twinkling fairy lights strung all over the walls, or that there are dozens of white roses scattered around the room, or that a small café table is set against the far wall in front of a back drop of giant gold confetti pieces.

"Clark…" she breathes as she takes in everything from the champagne chilling in an ice bucket to the white linen cloth that covers the table. She can't believe she was ever mad at him.

Clark grins widely. "Happy anniversary, Lois."

As much as she appreciates the effort, his words confuse her. They haven't been engaged for a year yet, and they celebrated the one-year mark of their first official 'I love yous' a few weeks ago. She's never been good with dates.

"Not that I'm trying to kill the mood," she says, "but which anniversary are we talking about here?"

"Well…" He wraps his arms around her waist, takes her hand in his, and slowly begins to pivot her around in circles. "A year ago today, here in this very room… I wrapped your hand up after Cat stabbed you…" He kisses the scar on her hand. "And then you convinced me that you were absolutely the person I am meant to be with for the rest of my life… And then I told you that I was the Blur. Ringing any bells?"

How could she have forgotten? Clark had admitted his secret and then she'd jumped on him and knocked him into the bags of shredded paper—that explained the gold confetti on the wall then. She loves that Clark doesn't forget anything.—and then they'd stayed up all night at the Kent Farm talking about Krypton and his origins between stolen kisses. How could she have forgotten?

She kisses him solidly and sighs into his open mouth. How is it that she falls more in love with him every single day?

"So I guess I'm forgiven for the past few days?" he says around her lips as they work a trail down his jawbone.

"Mmhmm," she mumbles again his neck.

"Lois, I want this as badly as you do, but dinner's going to get cold."

"It'll keep," she says as she works a few of the buttons open and slips a hand beneath his shirt. "You're the most romantic person I've ever met, Clark Kent. And I love you."

"I love you, too." Clark hoists her up around his waist and kisses her. "And do me a favor: don't ever take that ring off again."

"Deal." She smiles. "But you know you've set yourself up for failure, right?"

"How so?" He cocks his head at her in question.

"Because it's going to be really hard to top this every year."

He grins. "Challenge gladly accepted."

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading!