A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who are stateside with me! Please enjoy. And if you are braving the Black Friday madness, please be kind and please be safe!

The decision not to sell the Kent Farm turns out to be much easier than either one of them expected. They have several offers, some more fair than others, but Clark's hesitation to accept any of them tells Lois more than she needs to know. So one night in late June, the first time they've been able to actually sit down to dinner together in almost two weeks, she clears her throat.

"Clark, we need to decide what to do with the farm."

He nods. "I know."

"Like, yesterday."

He twirls his chopsticks through his lo mein. "So, what did you have in mind?"

Lois sits back in her chair and takes a drink of her water. "I think we should keep it."

"Now, Lois, I know you think it makes the most sense to sell it, but I'm just not sure that I'm—" He stops short. Looks at her. Takes it in. Then he smiles. "Did you just… I… Really?"

She shrugs. "It's pretty clear that you don't actually want to sell it or you would have done it already. I've been crunching some numbers this week and talking to your mother…" She produces a folder with stacks of paperwork on all the offers from their real-estate agent; pulls out an offer from a couple that was only interested in working the land. "And I think if we rent out the farmland, we can keep the house and make enough to start saving a little."

There's more discussion. He wants to see the numbers for himself, of course, and there's a quick phone call to his mother to verify that she's really okay with their decision, but after an hour or two, their choice is made; then his eyes light up and he kisses her, sweeps her into his arms, and makes love to her until the sky is tinged pink and orange with the sunrise and she's completely exhausted.

She's never regretted their decision to keep the little yellow house in Smallville. It was the first home she ever knew, and it makes sense for him to keep all his Kryptonian artifacts there and not in their loft in Metropolis in case the wrong sort of person were to come looking. Plus it gives them a place to escape for the weekend when they need it. Martha can't be a senator forever; one day she'll need to retire. And it gives them a place to host family when they come to visit.

So while she's never regretted their decision to hang onto the Kent farmhouse because so many of her favorite memories are here, she is starting to regret offering to host Thanksgiving here.

Lois wipes her forehead with the back of her hand and feels the trail of flour that she leaves behind, but she can't make herself care. She's already on her fifth attempt at a damn pumpkin pie. In the living room, Clark lets out a raucous cheer and claps. He's completely oblivious, of course.

"Honey," she says softly, trying to keep the desperation she feels from creeping into her voice. "I, too, am grateful that it's the day before Thanksgiving and we're in Smallville and not at the Planet and that Met U is playing in a basketball tournament and that they've managed to actually, I don't know, score against Kansas…" She sighs. "But do you realize that in about twenty-four hours there will be hungry people in this house that expect me to feed them? I don't cook, Clark!"

He turns around slowly and looks at her, eyes wide. "Did you say something, Lois?"

She groans in frustration and tosses her dishtowel onto the island. "I need help! I'm trying to make Thanksgiving perfect because I know how important it is to you, but I can't do it by myself. I've already drank the entire bottle of wine that I was supposed to use on the turkey and if I burn one more pie, I'm going to lose it."

"You made Thanksgiving dinner last year just fine." He smirks at her.

"It was a fluke." It's all she can do not to punch him in the face. If she knew there was even a chance she could hurt him, she might. "Clark!"

He nods and jumps off the couch. "Okay. Tell me what I can do."

She narrows her eyes at him, surprised that it's that easy. "Really?"

"Really." He runs a hand over the flour on her forehead and kisses the tip of her nose. "But can I just say, you look adorable with flour all over you."

As stressed as she is, she can't help but smile. Then his left hand is on her waist and his right hand lands on her neck and his thumb brushes against her jawbone and his lips work against hers fluidly and he pins her hips against the island with his. Thanksgiving preparations be damned; as long as Clark's kissing her like this, she couldn't care less where everyone's sleeping and where their dinner is coming from.

And then the dryer buzzes loudly and as delicious as the moment is, she does have a cadre of guests to prepare for, so she places a hand on his chest and gently pushes him away, reveling at how even two years later, he can still make her blush like a teenager.

"So Miss Lane," he says, "how can I help?"

"Well, eventually I'm going to need more wine…"

He narrows his eyes at her.

"For the turkey," she says quickly and then purses her lips. "And you might as well get a nice red for dinner tomorrow while you're out. But you can start by taking the sheets out of the dryer and making up the guest room for Chloe and Ollie, the living room couch for your mother, and the couch in the barn for Conner."

He furrows his brow. "Shouldn't we let my mom sleep in our room?"

"I tried." Lois shrugs. "She absolutely refused. Said there was no reason for both of us to be out of a bed when she was perfectly fine on the couch."

He nods. "What about your dad and Lucy?"

"They, um…" She grabs the measuring cup and starts scooping flour into the mixing bowl. Another attempt at a pie crust. "They're not coming."

"Since when?"

She stirs in the butter. "Lucy texted me last week. My dad's getting sent to Germany to oversee some training and Luce is going with him. Their plane leaves early tomorrow morning, so they're spending Thanksgiving on base."

"Are you okay with that?"

Lois shrugs. "Sure, Smallville."

He isn't sure that he believes her, but the tiny creases in her forehead as she measures salt and sugar and works the mixture with her hands tell him that now isn't the time to push the issue.

So he kisses her on the cheek. "Lois?"

She looks up and sighs, flour settling into the curves of her nose. "Yeah, Clark?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too." She smiles. "Now get going on those sheets. I'm up to my elbows in pie crust."

Chloe and Oliver arrive just after eight and Chloe rushes up the front steps and grabs her cousin in a tight hug. It's been months since they've seen each other, and while FaceTime, Skype, and Watchtower's other high-tech video chat technology help, it just isn't the same. Clark also pulls the blonde into a tight embrace and the four of them stand in the chilly evening air for a moment before Lois beckons them inside and then Clark escorts Oliver upstairs to the guest room to drop the luggage.

"So what's for dinner?" Chloe asks as she collapses onto the couch. "I'm starving."

Lois sits next to her. "I thought we'd go out. I've been cooking all day."

Chloe glances around the kitchen, looking for evidence. Clark, bless him, had offered to super-speed clean the kitchen while Lois showered and she hadn't protested. Her afternoon had gone from bad to worse after her fifth attempt at pumpkin pie hadn't ended much better than the previous four. She hadn't realized that it takes days, not hours, to fully thaw a frozen turkey, which meant that Clark had to employ his heat vision to melt the thing. She'd ended up in a mess on the kitchen floor, head in her hands, flour in her hair, lamenting the fact that Thanksgiving even existed.

That's when Clark had told her to take a shower while he cleaned up. Then he'd joined her and rinsed the conditioner from her hair with gentle fingers and carried her to bed and they'd made love for close to an hour, which was just long enough to remind her that while she may be terrible at cooking, she's also really fantastic at other wifely duties.

"So the cooking wasn't that successful," Lois says with a shrug. "Let's just say I sent Clark to the store for frozen pizzas and mozzarella sticks just in case the whole turkey thing doesn't work out."

Chloe laughs and grabs her cousin's hand. "Well, at least Mrs. Kent is on her way. If anyone can pull off a Thanksgiving miracle, it's her. Not that you need one," she adds quickly.

Lois grins. "And I thought it might be nice for us to have a double date. I'm so glad you guys decided to come in a little early."

"Well, it was a little selfish on our part." Chloe tucks a curl behind her ear. "There's something that we want to talk to you and Clark about."

"Is everything okay?" Lois's stomach drops. That's the sort of thing someone tells you before you get bad news. But it can't be bad news; she's never seen her cousin so happy—Chloe's practically glowing.

Chloe nods. "Very. We just have sort of a favor to ask you guys. But I don't want to spoil it, so I'll wait."

"You know I hate surprises…"

"Then let's go!" Chloe stands and tugs Lois's hand.

Clark and Oliver descend the stairs and Lois tells them to get their coats so they can grab dinner in town.

"Is Lois driving?" Oliver chuckles.

"I thought I would," she responds.

He pulls a face and crosses himself and Chloe punches him in the shoulder.

Lois grabs Clark's hand as he starts out the door and he turns to her. "Yes, Miss Lane?"

With a grin, she reaches into the breast pocket of his coat and produces a pair of the glasses he's taken to wearing. She slides them over his ears and rises onto her tiptoes to kiss him and they follow their friends.

The conversation is easy and the food is delicious, but Lois can barely swallow for fear of Chloe's announcement. Finally, when the plates have been cleared and desserts have been ordered and the wine in the bottle is dwindling, Oliver clears his throat and threads his fingers through Chloe's.

"Um, well, guys… So there's something that we need to tell you before everyone else gets here…" He glances over to Chloe, who takes in a deep breath and widens her eyes.

Lois would recognize what they're doing anywhere because she and Clark do it all the time—they're having a silent conversation. And then Clark proves her point by nudging her thigh and raising his eyebrows. She shakes her head in response. No, I have no idea what's about to happen.

"Okay, fine, I'll tell them," Chloe says exasperatedly and grins. "Lois… Clark… I'm—"

"Chloe's pregnant!" Oliver exclaims and throws up his hands.

Lois, who was subconsciously bracing herself for the worst, can barely breathe, but she catches Chloe's eyes across the table and she is so happy.

"Oh, my God!" Lois says and then she's on her feet and hugging Chloe and her hand is on her cousin's still flat stomach and she can barely believe that there's another human in there and that life is going to change for Chloe and Ollie forever.

Clark hugs Oliver and then Chloe and then the four of them mash together in a lopsided group hug and when they pull apart, there are tears streaming down Chloe's face.

"I'm sorry," she says, fanning her face. "I cry all the damn time now. It's the worst."

"She cries all the time now," Oliver says matter-of-factly. "She found a pair of shoes on sale one day and cried. Queen Industries gained a point in the Dow last week and she sobbed. Hysterically. Really, this is nothing for her."

They sit back down in their chairs and Clark's hand finds Lois's and pulls it into his lap.

Chloe eventually quells her tears and takes a long drink of water. "Anyway, we wanted to tell you guys first because we kind of have something else to ask you." She looks at Oliver and nods.

"Right," he picks up. "So, in the event that something should happen to us—"

"—which it won't," Clark supplies.

"—in the unlikely event that something should happen to us," Ollie continues, "since Chloe and I don't have siblings, we would really like it if you guys would agree to be the baby's godparents."

Clark looks over at her, and, not for the first time, Lois wonders if Kryptonians can actually read minds and he's just conveniently forgotten to mention that to her. She smiles at him and gives him the tiniest nod. As if she could say no to her best friend and cousin.

He squeezes her hand in response. "We'd be honored."

Both Chloe and Oliver let out sighs of relief and Lois notices that Chloe's hands flutter automatically to her stomach. She wonders if that comes with the knowledge that you're carrying a baby. Then she wonders if she'll ever get to experience that for herself.

"There's one more thing," Chloe says slowly. "And this is really more about you, Clark."

Clark nods. "Go ahead."

"If the baby is a boy, we want to name him Jonathan… After your dad."

"Oh! Um…" Clark's fingers tighten around Lois's hand and he pushes his glasses up his nose, a nervous habit he picked up quickly after he started wearing them every day. "Can I ask why?"

"Well, I loved your dad," Chloe says simply. "I mean, I spent more time at your house than I did my own and he was always kind and patient and more than willing to feed me and give me advice. And I just, I don't know…" She shrugs. "It just feels like the right thing to do."

Clark's brow furrows and he stares at the breadcrumbs on the tablecloth before he turns his eyes up and nods. "I think my dad would be really happy to have your son named after him. So, yes, Chloe. I'd be honored for you to name your baby Jonathan if it's a boy."

Lois forces a smile and takes a few delicate bites of the dessert after it arrives, but she's quiet on the drive home, mostly because she can't forget that Clark didn't even glance at her while he was making up his mind.

Martha Kent and Conner are waiting for them in the kitchen when they return home from dinner and Clark is, naturally, upset that his mother didn't call him to pick them up from the Metropolis airport.

"Clark, please," she responds, as she pulls her son into a hug. "I miss driving. I never get to do it in Washington."

She greets each of them individually and then excuses herself to the bathroom upstairs to shower and get ready for bed. Conner escapes to the barn and Chloe and Oliver retire early as well, claiming exhaustion from travel and, in Chloe's case, pregnancy hormones.

Lois checks on the turkey in the refrigerator, although she isn't one hundred percent sure why—it just seems like the thing to do. Then Clark's arms snake around her waist and his lips land in the hollow under her ear and his breath is hot when he whispers, "Let's go to bed."

And she almost lets him carry her upstairs. She almost lets it go and loses herself in his kisses and his arms, but then she remembers how utterly pissed off at him she is, so she slams the fridge door shut and spins around.

"We can go to bed, but all that's going to happen in said bed is sleeping, Clark Joseph Kent." She marches up the stairs, but of course, having a fiancé who can super-speed and fly, for Christ's sake, means that she can never truly storm out of a room, because he's waiting for her at the foot of their bed.

She shakes her head. "Just once, I would like to make a dramatic exit."

"Sorry," he says. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong? You were fine at dinner and now you're not. Does it have something to do with Chloe?"

She sighs. No point in beating around the proverbial bush. "How could you tell them it was okay for them to name their baby after your dad without even talking to me about it?"

"I'm sorry…" He bends and unlaces his shoes. "What difference does it make to you, Lois?"

"I just…" She rings her hands uselessly. They've never actually talked about having kids before other than "let's don't right now" and this isn't exactly how she wanted to broach the subject with him.

She sucks in a deep breath. "I just always thought that we would name our son Jonathan."

His head snaps up and he looks at her. "Our son?"

"Our hypothetical son."

He presses the tips of his fingers together and studies them for a long moment before he speaks again. When he does, it's so quiet that she barely makes it out. "You've… You've thought about what we would name our hypothetical son?"

"Of course I have…" She sits next to him. "I thought we'd name him Jonathan Samuel after both our dads. Hell, your father was more of a dad to me than my own."

Clark looks up at her. "This has really upset you, hasn't it?"

"I don't know why exactly," she says honestly. "It just feels sort of like an insult to us. Like Chloe and Oliver don't think we'll ever have kids of our own."

"We will," he says confidently, and then sighs. "But they beat us to the punch, Lo."

"Like that matters." She scoffs. "It's a namesake, Clark; it's not the last piece of pizza."

He shakes his head. "I already told her yes…"

"So go back tell her no," she pleads.

"I need to…" He stands, shoves his feet into a pair of loafers. "I need to take a walk, clear my head… Think about this. It's a lot."

She nods and says she understands, but she can't shake the feeling that he's already made his decision.

He's been gone almost two hours when she finally crawls into bed.

She wakes just after two in the morning and Clark's side of the bed is still untouched. She sighs and runs a hand over her matted hair. Fantastic. She's run her fiancé off.

Knowing that there aren't too many places in the house left for people to sleep, Lois decides that if Clark won't come to her, then she'll just go to him. One of the only rules her dad gave her that she actually tries to follow is "never go to bed angry." And with Clark putting himself in so much danger on a regular basis, she could never forgive herself if something happened to him and she hadn't told him she loved him right before he left.

She's surprised to see the kitchen light on downstairs and when she looks to her right for Mrs. Kent on the living room couch, it's empty. Then she hears the tell-tale sign of the kitchen drawers opening and the soft sounds of cooking and she bows her head. Of course.

Lois pulls the cardigan she'd thrown on over her sleep t-shirt tighter around her chest and smiles as she walks in the kitchen. "I've never tried baking at two-thirty in the morning. Maybe I'd be better at it then."

"Oh, Lois. Did I wake you?" Martha is apologetic.

She shakes her head. "No. I don't sleep well without Clark. I'm sorry—is that weird for you to hear?"

Martha laughs. "You've lived together for a year, Lois, it's not like I don't know what's going on."

Excellent point. Lois perches on a barstool. "Have you seen Clark? I actually came down to find him."

"He left around midnight to take care of a situation in Sydney." Martha retrieves four small apples from a produce bag and washes them in the sink. "Why don't you help me with these pies?"

Lois stares at her. "You want them to be edible, right?"

Martha laughs and hands Lois the apples and a knife. "You'll be fine. Now. Since I couldn't get anything out of Clark... Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Lois studies the knife. "He told you we were fighting?"

"He didn't have to."

Lois looks up at her in confusion as she begins peeling the apples.

"You and Clark have never realized the effect that the two of you have on each other, and the effect that it has on the people around you. It's like an energy, an aura." She laughs. "Jonathan was the first person to notice it."

"Really?"

Martha nods. "The first day he saw you and Clark together, after I caught you in the bathroom…" She smiles and Lois blushes furiously. "That night, after I got you settled in Clark's room, Jonathan looked at me and said, 'Martha, one day, we'll be watching those two get married.' I thought he was crazy. But even back then he could see there was something special between the two of you."

Lois's throat is tight with tears that she refuses to let fall and she misses Mr. Kent so badly in this moment. She can't imagine how Martha and Clark do it every day. "I know I didn't get to spend much time with him, but I really loved him."

"He loved you too, Lois. You know, Thanksgiving was one of his favorite holidays. He loved having everyone together to share a meal and just be grateful for all they have." She turns her gaze to the ceiling and blinks rapidly, but a few tears still slip from beneath her eyelashes. "Family was always the most important thing to Jonathan."

Lois nods, the pieces finally falling into place. "That's why Thanksgiving is so important to Clark."

They're both silent for a moment, the only sounds the steady whir of the food processor as Martha cuts the butter into the pie crusts and the soft slicing of Lois's knife through the apples. Then Mrs. Kent clears her throat.

"My point in saying all that was: it's easy to tell when things are less than perfect between you two. So what are you and my son fighting about, anyway?"

Lois shrugs. "Coincidentally, Mr. Kent. More specifically, his name."

Martha shakes her head. "I don't understand…"

"I'm going to spoil it, so pretend to be surprised tomorrow when she tells you. Chloe's pregnant." Lois pauses to let the news sink in. "And she and Ollie asked Clark and me to be the baby's godparents."

"I can't see that being an issue," Martha says. "You and Clark would be wonderful parents… Godparents."

Lois doesn't miss the slip, but doesn't have the energy to explain that she's expressly avoiding that part of the conversation with Clark for now. "No, we agreed to that part. What's bothering me is that they want to name the baby Jonathan. Clark doesn't see a problem with it."

Recognition settles across the older woman's face. "But you do."

Lois shrugs. "It always felt like something that should have been reserved for us."

"Well…" Martha brushes the crumbs from her hands and leans against the counter. Then the kitchen door opens and Clark walks into the room, looking gray and haggard.

Lois is always relieved to see him after he's been gone, but the weight she feels lift from her shoulders this time is immeasurable. She jumps from her barstool and throws herself into his arms. His arms wind around her waist and his face buries itself in her neck.

Usually she asks him how bad it was and she knows by now to take whatever he tells her and multiply it by at least three to get the real scope of things—he tries to protect her. But all she can say as he lifts her by the thighs and carries her upstairs is "I'm so sorry" and "I love you."

He strips off the suit and pulls on his favorite pair of sweat pants and climbs in bed next to her. She can tell he's exhausted, but she needs to say this now before she loses her nerve, so she turns and props herself up on her elbow and gazes down at him.

"We need to talk."

He sighs. "Lois, can't this wait until morning?"

"It really can't. The General always says, 'don't go to bed angry' and I'm not letting it happen now, especially on Thanksgiving."

His lips quirk up the tiniest bit. "My dad used to say the same thing."

"Speaking of your dad…"

He tenses visibly and scrubs a hand over his face. "If it's really bothering you that much, I'll tell Chloe to choose a different name."

She shakes her head. "I think you should let Chloe and Oliver name their baby Jonathan."

He stares at her for a minute. "What changed?"

"I talked to your mom… And she reminded me that family is the most important thing. Like it or not, we're all connected now." She grabs his hand. "It doesn't matter who's honoring your dad as long as he's being honored, because he was an incredible man and he deserves it."

"Are you sure?" He pushes himself to sitting and holds her shoulders gently.

She nods. "I'm sure."

He kisses her softly and rests his forehead against hers when he pulls away. "You are incredible."

She shrugs. "It's been suggested."

Thanks in large part to Martha Kent's words of encouragement (and the remainder of the white wine that didn't go into the turkey), Lois's bird emerges from the oven a perfect golden brown. The mashed potatoes are fluffy; the green beans are steamed to perfection with just the right amount of butter and garlic; and her sixth attempt at a pumpkin pie finally turns into something edible, which is good because Clark says it just isn't Thanksgiving without a pumpkin pie. She even manages to make a pitcher of caffeine-free sweet tea for Chloe, who can't get enough of the stuff.

And even though Martha's homemade cranberry sauce is absolutely to die for, Lois insists on having a dish of the store-bought kind, which she carefully removes from the can, leaving the indentations on the gelatinous form. It's not even that she likes it that much, but her mother always made sure it was on the table, and Lois tries to honor her in whatever way she can.

Lois pours the wine as Clark carves the turkey and then after they've all taken their seats, Martha raises her glass and stands at the head of the table.

"Thanksgiving was always one of Jonathan's favorite holidays, and he liked for us to go around the table and say something that we're grateful for. It's kind of a Kent tradition." She smiles at Lois. "But I'd like to take the opportunity to create a new tradition. A toast to all the things we're grateful for. One by one. I'll start. To family." She turns to Chloe, who sits on her left.

"To old friends," she adds, raising her tea, which Lois festively served in a wine glass.

Oliver never takes his eyes from his wife as he speaks. "To new life."

"To destiny," Clark says, turning to Lois.

"To soul mates." Lois smiles at him.

"To dinner!" Conner proclaims and rubs his stomach hungrily. "Can we please eat now?"

They laugh and clink glasses and drink heartily and pass plates of turkey and sides around the table.

Clark's hand brushes Lois's as he reaches for another helping of mashed potatoes and he leans in close to her. "Happy Thanksgiving, Lois."

She pecks him on the cheek. "Happy Thanksgiving, Clark."

A/N: Thank you!