presspasskey | Entries tagged with character: lois lane

Lois had been... okay, not avoiding Clark per se--she wasn't going out of her way to be where he wasn't or anything. A little less present by his side during the day, maybe. She decided to forgo her habit of stealing his coffee, and of sitting on his desk and keeping him from working until he'd agreed to proofread for her.

And it wasn't exactly because she wanted to avoid him, either--he was the best friend she had, after all--but things always got a little awkward right after she had to turn someone down.

(Not to mention she probably would have at least agreed to one date, even if it wasn't going to work out in the end, if it hadn't been for--

Well.)

And, well, he had said to tell him if anything... changed. So maybe it wasn't just one of those momentary-whim type things (though this was Clark, he always took relationships so ridiculously seriously that seemed unlikely anyway.) Either way, the whole thing was a mess now, that much was clear. Hopefully it wouldn't make things with Clark too horrendously awkward in the long term, but you never really knew, did you.

Which is why tonight she's curled up on the couch, CNN muted in the background, determinedly making her way through a pint of Rocky Road.

Lois pulled into the parking lot by the lake, and couldn’t help but smile wryly. She hadn’t been out here all summer—in a couple summers, really. Work just took so much time these days, after all.

After a quick check to make sure her favorite local microbrew was still in a cooler in front of the back of the passenger seat, she turned off the car. (The cooler really was just in case; after all, this was Smallville; no harm in having a little extra for dinner after, just in case all he had was the couple bottles left over from the last time she was at the farm.) She ran one last inventory in her head: wrap skirt easy to dispose of, check; sun-screen: check; swimsuit on to maximize water-time: check; beach ball to toss with the kid: check; towel: check; sunglasses: check; water and snacks: check; second cooler of ice cream in the trunk which would totally get broken into early whatever Clark said: check. But I refuse to tell him this was the best idea he’s had in a while. Don’t want it going to his head.

Grabbing the bag of gear from the seat next, she slid out of the car, scanning the lake area for Clark. He would be much easier to spot than the sproglet, after all. Finally she spotted him and started trotting in their general direction. “Yo, Smallville!”