"He's so small," she chuckles, unable to tear her eyes away from his beautiful tiny face. Eyes still closed, he grabs her finger, and her heart beats a little faster.
"And so handsome," Martha adds, proud as ever. Before they can continue, a nurse comes in, a warm smile on her face.
"Everything alright in here?"
"Perfect," Lois whispers, not even noticing the knowing look between the two older women. She just can't get enough of him.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but as arranging as we were told to be, I still need a name for that baby of yours," the nurse says gently, and this gets finally her attention.
She doesn't have one yet.
She's been putting it off for months now, trying to ignore the fact that it was because Clark isn't here to choose with her. It is, though, the only and most justified reason of all, because it's his child, too - he's their baby, and Clark should be there next to her, holding his son and whispering how much he love them.
It's not fair.
It's not, yet that's what life is, and she knows that she has to face it. So, even if she doesn't know yet, she still smiles, swallowing down the tears that threaten to come, hand delicately removing his already thick dark hair from his face.
"I don't have one yet – you can just write Baby Kent for now."
Martha looks up at her, this time not able to hold back her own silent tears.
"Your child really is beautiful," she says, standing arms cross above his hospital's crib. "This is rare, for an infant his age," and Lois can't help but laugh.
"I don't think you're supposed to say that about babies," even though she can't stop smiling herself (and agreeing: he is incredibly pretty).
Diana looks up, unashamed. "But thanks. And thanks for the gifts – you really didn't have to."
"I wanted to," she answers simply, shooting her a small smile, and Lois nods.
"Please, thanks Bruce as well: I have a feeling he has something to do with that arranging and incredibly discreet clinic," she gestures around the room, smiling knowingly.
She smiles again. "I'll pass the message."
It's Jonathan. Her little boy's name is Jonathan Samuel Kent.
Wherever he is, she really hopes Clark likes it.
Saying than having a baby – all by herself, at that – wasn't in Lois' plans was probably the understatement of the year. Decade, even. Hell, of the whole century.
Now that she's living it, she thinks that it must have been some sort of subconscious preservation thing on her part, in a way because right now, she thinks she's going to lose her damn mind.
"Shhh," she tries again for the hundreth time, desperately trying to calm him down. "Come on, honey, it's okay. Please stop crying," she almost begs, because she doesn't know what else to do.
She simply has no clue.
She fed him, made sure he burped, made sure he wasn't wet. He doesn't have a fever, and to the naked eye, there's nothing wrong. Nothing.
Yet he's crying, has been for close to forty minutes now, and she feels like the worse mother in the world because her son is suffering somehow, and she can't even figure out why or how, least of all how to make him feel better. Fear, guilt and despair fill her, and Lois has to stop herself from crying herself.
She wishes it was the first time she had to do that.
"Come on, Jon," she whispers, still pacing in the apartment, the hand craddling his head almost shaking.
"Lois?" comes a gentle voice behind her, and she turns to see Martha emerging from the guest room, a soft smile on her face.
"Oh God, Martha, I'm so sorry I woke you - " she starts, ashamed even more. Shit.
"Honey, it's okay."
"It's just, he won't stop crying, and I can't seem to make him stop. I just - "
Before she has the time to continue, though, she feels strong hands on her arms, stopping her pacing and babbling all at once. Without a word, Martha simply looks at her for a few seconds, making her focus again.
"Lois, breathe. I'll take that sweet little thing," she says, carefully taking the baby from her. "And you breathe and stop panicking, okay? Everything's fine. You're just exhausted."
"Everything's not fine – he won't stop crying," she breaks, hands coming to her head in a movement that she realizes must make her look like a crazy person.
Not that that's far from the truth, right now. "I don't know what's happening to him."
"Nothing's happening to him, Lois," the older woman argues, Jon's cries still echoing around the apartment. "Babies cry – that's just what they do. You're not doing anything wrong," she tells her, looking straight at her before focusing her attention back on Jon.
Changing his position in her arms, Martha starts walking, rocking him slightly. Fingers gently running over his forehead, she smiles at him and starts to hum.
And it works.
For some reason, it works: after a minute, he stops crying, and then there's just sleepy sounds before he completely falls asleep, his little hand still holding on to her night gown.
Eyes wide in surprise, Lois looks up to see her smiling, her own eyes still on his face for a moment before looking back at her.
"It used to work with Clark," she whispers as an explanation. "Like father, like son, apparently."
Sighing, Lois draps a hand over face as she collapses on the couch, exhaustion taking over.
"You're going to be okay, Lois," Martha repeats after a while. She's already took Jon in the bedroom, and comes to sit on the sofa's arm, hand gently running over Lois' head. For a moment, the young woman just lays there, enjoying the comfort it brings her.
"This is really, really hard."
"I know, sweetie."
"I don't know what I'm doing."
"Neither of us do," she chuckles. "We just try and do our best – and most of the time, the kid comes out of it alive, so don't worry," and for the first time in quite some time, Lois chuckles.
"Well, in that case, nothing to worry about, I guess."
"I mean it," she continues gently. "You're going through the hard phase, but I swear, in a couple of weeks, you'll get some sleep, and you'll be able to see things more clearly. In the meantime, just remember that you're a good mom. Because you are," she finishes.
Lois is vaguely aware of a blanket being drapped over her as her eyes close, and she sighs, finaly relaxing a little.
Laying on her side, arm beneath her head, Lois gently runs her hand on his stomach, fingers occasionally ghosting over his chubby cheeks and closed eyes.
"You know, I think I may love you more than anything in this world, little Kent."
"Honey, I swear, I don't mind," she says, obviously worried as she rocks him, craddling his head.
Looking up at her from the pile of laudry she's folding, Lois smiles.
"Martha, you've stayed with us for four weeks and a half: I couldn't ask for more. And to be honest, I'd really prefer it if you got back to Smallville before you hate both of us," she gestures towards the babbling little monster in her arms, and Martha chuckles.
"Yeah, as if that could happen," she snorts, turning her head to see his face, smiling and gently kissing it when she does.
"That's very sweet of you, but you're barely getting any sleep here. That's not fair."
"Neither are you, Lois."
"Yeah, but that's what's supposed to happen for me: I'm doomed," she says dramatically. "But you," she points to Martha with a smile, "you've done your part a long time ago. Now you get to just be the sweet grandma he'll run to when I'm too mean to him. Seriously, Martha: it's fine. You've already done more than enough - trust me."
And she had – she trully had. Without her, Lois is pretty sure she would have died from despair.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. I have to learn to do this by myself, anyway," Lois adds quietly.
To her pleasure, she doesn't cry. Her chest does tighten at the thought, as it always does when she thinks of him, of all the moments he's going to miss, or at how much she misses him, and always will.
But this time, she doesn't cry. Instead, she manages to smile reassuringly at his mother, promising her that she'll be able to do it.
Because she will.
"You look exhausted."
Jenny rolls her eyes and, fighting a smile, Lois does the same.
"Which means awful. Thanks, Perry, please come in," and she shakes her head at him as they both enter the apartment, the young woman heading straight to the living room, leaving her bag somewhere on the floor to gush all over Jon, happily babbling as he laid on his baby thingy (with close to no-sleep in the last 24 hours, Lois can't really bring herself to feel guilty about no remembering the name of the million new things that appeared in her apartment in the last few months).
"Hello, handsome," Jennny beams, eyes shining as she gently tickles him, and he smiles. "Can I pick him up?"
"Sure," Lois chuckles, amused at her reaction. Every time.
Which is also what their boss is thinking, given the unimpressed look he gives her as she picks said handsome boy, lifting him up over her head before carefully bringing him back close to her body and dropping a small kiss on his head.
"You do know you look like every cliché about women and babies, right?," he deadpans as she hands Lois a bag filled with an enormous bluebrry muffin.
"I do. I don't really care, though," she responds, her eyes not even leaving her new boyfriend.
"Leave her alone, Perry. My son rocks: that's the normal reaction to have in front of him," she smirks, earning him a glare as she heads to the kitchen to start the coffee she has had to learn how to make. "Oh, don't give me that look: you know you love him. Alice told me, too."
Not that she needed to: she has known him for more than ten years, and half of the ten smiles she has seen him arbored were caused by Jon.
Which was not only cute, but also gave her another thing to tease him about, which Lois just loved.
"And I told you to stop talking about me with my wife, Lane," he growls, sitting in his familiar spot on the couch.
"Hey, she called me," Lois raises her hand, watching him take Jon from Jenny nonetheless. Half touched, haldf exasperated, she turns on the coffee maker and goes to join them.
She doesn't know which one of them decided to start paying them those weekly visits, but a flash of gratitude and affection goes through her body at the sight of her colleagues – friends – being there, taking time from what she knows to be busy days to come and play with her son and talk to her.
"So, Lane," he says, glancing at her as she sits before focusing his attention back on the baby. "Why don't you tell us how those sleepless nights are going, and I'll tell you how I had to fire another freaking stringer yesterday?"
"Which, really, was a bit of an overreaction," Jenny tells her knowingly.
He starts arguing about how patheticly useless twenty years-old nowdays are, and Lois laughs.
"It's okay, sweetie," she chuckles at the surprised look on his tiny face at his own burb. "Completely normal, I promise."
Kissing his head, she gently craddles it with her hand as he lets himself lay on her shoulder again, inhaling his oh so heavenly baby smell. She starts walking around the apartment again, gently rocking him as her fingers run circles on his back.
Once in her – their, really – bedroom, she carefully lays him on the bed before laying on her side next to him herself, one arm above him, the other on his stomach. He doesn't cry much, not anymore, but fusses a lot before finally giving in and closing his tired eyes. Legs lazily kicking into the air, he looks at her, plays with her finger, her hair.
At one point, he turns his head and, not for the first time, focuses on the framed photo on her bedtable, little hand reaching as if to grab it as he starts babling in his own language.
"Yeah, that's daddy," she whispers, smiling when he looks back at her even though she feels the familiar pain on her chest at the mention of Clark.
It's been exactly one year, but his absence still physically hurts her. Sometimes, she thinks – knows – that it always will.
She doesn't want to cry, though, at least not in front of Jon, so instead, she takes a deep breath and starts talking as those beautiful blue eyes tiredly look at her.
"How about another story about him? You always love those," she manages, subconciously cuddling even closer to their son for comfort.
Maybe it's because he's so much like him, or because they made him together, the beautiful result of what they felt for one another. Maybe it's because he's part of him as much as he's part of her, or simply because he's their son, the only other love of her life she'll ever have.
No matter why, Jon is the only thing that can make her feel better, the only thing that makes her life worth living when she thought it stopped with his, in that smoking battlefield that terrible day.
If it wasn't for him, Lois doesn't know what she would do.
Leaning in to kiss his little nose, she runs her thumbs over his sleepy face, and tells him about what a wonderful man his father was.
Deep down, she knows that she's biaised, but if there's one thing Lois is sure of, it's that she has the most perfect child in the world.
She really, really does (and, to be honest, she's ready to fight anyone that says the contrary, if only to punish such liars). Even from an objective point of view, that's just the truth.
It's not just that he's handsome. He is, of course, having inherited not only his father's blue eyes and dark curls, but his smile, too. But on top of that, he always seems to be in a good mood, for some reason ("Do you have that kid on some sort of drug, Lane?", Perry asks one day), showing a toothless grin at everybody who asks, and finding everyone of her jokes funny - although to be fair, she can't really take credit for peek a boo, aka the most efficient baby pleasing game in the History of the world.
He's very responsive to development toys, loves it when she reads him stories, looks adorable whenever he does get whinny, is a big fan of the Beatles, and gives the best hugs in the universe.
True, it's impossible to make him eat carrot in any way, shape or form, but he does sleep like a rock and very rarely cry for nothing anymore, which she loves him even more for, if possible.
She also feels like he understands her when she talks to him, big eyes looking at her, focused, everytime she explains something to him, and she secretly starts picturing him at the top of his class in Harvard.
Lois really wishes Clark could have seen that.
And then, much like it did over a year ago, everything changes in the blink of an eye.
She's at work when it happens. As usual, Perry and her are bickering over some details of her on going investigation in the middle of the staff meeting, which is currently pissing her to no end, considering that as the one actually following the story, she knows what lead to follow.
"Well, great for you, Perry. But I need this interview, so I don't care if the board's going to - "
She doesn't have the time to finish her yelling, though, interrupted by a franctic Jenny barging in.
"Guys, are you watching this?," eyes wide. "Come see the TV – now."
Sharing a look, Perry and Lois get up, crossing the door with hurried steps to make their way in front of the screens in the open space, on which everyone's attention is focused. Understandably -
Because right there under their eyes, is Superman.
Stunned. That's probably the word to describe how she feels when Lois sees him, hovering over the city in a black suit she's never seen before. She's not sure, actually, because in a second both her brain and body stop functioning, and she just stands there, frozen in place by images she can't understand, but stunned is close.
It's – it's not possible. It must be some kind of rerun modified by some idiot to generate buzz or something. It happened before, and that's what's happening right now too, because it makes no sense.
But it's live, and it's on every channel, from Metropolis' to Pekin's - and it's him.
It's him, and yet Lois immediately knows something's wrong. He's not helping anyone on this footage, far from it, and as Metropolis 4 manages to make a close up on his face, she sees an emptiness, an anger in his eyes that's never been here before. His head turns, and the camera follows his gaze to focus on a thing that draw a collective gasp from everyone around her.
It's not human - that's for sure. She has no clue what it is, but it certainly does not look like good news. And then he flies off, and Clark – because it has to be him, he has to be in there somewhere – follows him, and Lois stops herself just in time from yelling at him to come back.
The whole room goes silent, and she's left with nothing but a racing heart, her entire body shaking.
Everything goes fast.
So, so fast.
Bruce, Diana and the others come that same night to tell her that yes, Clark's alive, but it's not Clark anymore. Not really. There's Darkseid now, which apparently means problem, and black suit Superman instead of the usual kind red and blue one that loves Earth so much.
Lex is in the middle of all of this, somehow. The city's scared – she's scared. She helps them working on how to bring Clark back, because once again he's the only who can save the day, and because if there's one person who deserves to be saved, it's him. The others express concern for her and Jon, and she decides that when the time comes, she'll take him to Martha's. He'll be safe there.
But she can't even think about not being here.
They work tiredlessly. She loses sleep, but she doesn't care. Everytime she sees him on TV, her heart aches. She makes sure Jon never watches, young as he might be, because she doesn't want him to ever think of him like that: angry, cold, threatening. That's not him.
That man is not his dad – but she sure as hell is going to bring him back to them.
Closing her eyes, Lois presses a long kiss against his forehead, holding him as close as she can before gently handing Jon to his grandmother, making sure not to wake him.
Her hand doesn't leave him, though, adjusting the cover over him to protect him from the cold, and then stopping on his back. Martha brings her hand over hers, and Lois looks up at her reassuring smile.
"It's going to be okay, honey – I'll take care of him," she says gently.
Trying to hold back tears she can't really explain – although fear and apprehension over whether Clark's going to be okay, and over leaving her baby son in the middle of it may have something to do with it – Lois nods, and tries to smile back.
"I know." Leaning, she takes them both into her arms, then walks backwards towards the car where Alfred is waiting for her.
Later, it will occur to her that this is probably close to a movie scene.
It was chaos. It was fire, and punches, and screams, an awful reminder of what happened with Zod, and of what happened with Doomsday.
It was awful, but eventually an heavy silence settles. For a second, she doesn't know what's going on, doesn't know if they won or not, because from where she's standing, she can't tell.
Until she turns around, only to find Clark, standing and alive and looking straight at her.
She's not sure who moves, but somehow, he's in front of her. There's a little blood on his forehead, and his hair is kind of a mess, and he seems so lost and hesitant she wants to cry, but his eyes are as blue and gentle as they've ever been, and that's all that matters.
And then -
It's quiet, whispered hesistantly, but there's no doubt it's him - it's the voice she loves so much and has been deprieved of for so long, and just like that, she's sobbing. Like, hard.
And because it's him, because for some reason it worked out and she has her man back, Clark closes the distance and holds her close, leaving no space between them. The moment his arms snake around her, she thinks her heart might explode.
She's home, and he's warm, so warm, and so familiar and here – he's here. She's missed him so much, for so, so long and now Clark's here again, holding her against his hard body as he whispers sweet nothings to make her feel better. She feels him burry his head in her neck and she does the same, his scent making her smile like a maniac, breath tickling his tanned skin.
"I missed you," she eventually mumbles, arms tight around his neck because she's kind of dizzy, and because she never wants to let him go again. "I missed you so much," and she feels his hand gently craddling her nape, the familiar sensation sending goosebumbs down her spine.
"I know," Clark whispers soothingly, his words and touch bringing her more comfort than she's ever felt. "It's over now: I'm here," and Lois could cry from relief. Probably already is, she realizes vaguely.
Right now, she's not aware of much, because he's looking right at her again, and then his lips are on hers, and she doesn't know anymore, all clear thought forgotten.
All she knows is that she never wants him to stop.
She has no idea how long they stay there, foreheads touching, fingers gripping and lips kissing, but at some point he's talking again, his words whispered against her lips.
"I'm so sorry, Lo, I just – I woke in a place I didn't know, and I couldn't remember anything," he starts, frowning as he tries to make sense of what happened. "And it wasn't until I saw you that - "
"Hey, it's okay," she smiles, forehead to his and hands gently cuppping his cheeks to comfort him, because she can.
Months and months, and now she can touch him again. "I know. It's okay now," she kisses his chin, lingering before he backs away slightly to look at her.
"Still - I left you alone," he blames himself, anguish written all over his face. Despite his true distress, Lois can't help her chuckle at his choice of words.
"Well, not completely alone," she confesses, nuzzling him.
Of course, she hadn't planned on telling him here, standing meters away from the smocking battlefield five minutes after being reunited, but the cute confused expression on his face makes her change her mind.
"Your mother really helped me, for one. My sister called a lot, too. And then - we kind of had a baby."
Surprise registers on his face so fast it must be some kind of record. For a few seconds, he just looks at her, and if she didn't know better, she'd think he's having some kind of stroke.
Eventually, he manages to speak again. Kind of.
"I – what?," and she kisses his open mouth briefly, trying to contain her laughter. Lois had spent nights dreaming about telling him, about a world where he was still here, and she was just another woman announcing to her boyfriend they were about to be three.
She can't believe she finally has that.
(and that, on top of everything, he's making the exact same face she had imagined he'd do.)
"I know, right?," she answers, fingers gently running on his furrowed brows. "He looks just like you," she whispers softly, barely stopping the tears she suddenly feel coming.
Talk about an emotional rollercoaster.
"'He'?," he asks, and she feels a teary laugh escape her as she nods, more happy than she ever recall being.
"Yeah – you have a son, Smallville," and slowly, oh so slowly, she watches as a confused, yet radiant smile grows on his face, eyes wide in surprise, and something else. "And not to brag, but he's perfect," she adds in an attempt to joke, because she's feeling so many things, she's pretty sure she's about to cry.
God, she's a mess.
"I don't really – I mean, I just - "
"Hey, lovebirds," comes a growly voice behind them, and Lois turns to see Bruce approaching them as the others hang back. "The police is almost here, and I'm pretty sure the news are going to be close behind. You better get out of here now, if you two want to talk privately."
It might be her imagination, but she thinks she sees a rare smile, a true one that reflects on his hidden eyes. Fingers tightening on the arms Clark still has locked around her, Lois smiles back, more grateful to him than she has ever been.
"Thanks," she hears Clark says, sincere, and she nods. "I'll – talk with you soon."
Bruce nods. "Take your time."
And with that, and for the first time in way too long, Lois feels him sweep her off her feet, and leaves a small kiss on his neck as they take off.
She tells him to take them somewhere quiet, somewhere it's just the two of them, and he does.
And maybe it's selfish of her. Maybe he should be out there with the League and try to figure out what's going to happen, or letting the world now that he's back, and that it's okay again. Maybe while he does, she should head back to the Planet to write all about this crazy night, and expose the story before anyone else as she usually does. Maybe they simply should head back to Kansas, where his son and mother are waiting for him.
But it's the middle of the night and most likely, they're sleeping, and they're only going to be a few hours, anyway, and, after all those months apart from Clark, Lois finds it to be excuse enough. They need a few moments to grasp the reality of what's happening, to just - reunite.
She needs it – needs him, all to herself and between her arms, if only for a short time.
The whole flight, Lois keeps her head buried in the crook of his neck, arms tight around it as she relishes in the smell of his skin, his warmth. Her fingers fly over the hope symbol on his chest, and she bites her lips at the comforting feel of it, and over all, at the small kiss he drops in her hair.
She still can't believe it.
After only a few minutes, he lands in a dense forest, hands coming to rest on her hips as she turns to see a small wooden cabin tugged among the tree, basked in the moonlight.
"It belongs to a man I once met when I was looking for my biological parents," he explains, kissing her temple. "He said I could come here whenever I wanted, because he's never here anyway, so I think we can stay until morning."
She follows him as he takes her hand to bring her inside, her other hand coming to rest on his wrist, yearning for every contact possible, but stops just before crossing the threshold.
"Wait, I should call your mom first," she says, reaching for the cellphone in her pocket. "To let her know we're okay, and check up on Jon."
"Jon?" She looks up to his unsure eyes, as if he already knows, but is waiting for her to confirm it, and she smiles when she understands.
"Yeah – Jonathan, actually. Jonathan Samuel Kent," and there's an unreadable expression on his face. "I thought you might like it," she admits, almost shy all of the sudden.
After a moment, he nods, and if she can still see how touched he is, there's a smile on his face. Taking a step towards her, Clark brings his hands to frame her face and kisses gently, and she forgets how to breathe again.
"I do," he whispers against her lips. "I really do. Thank you, Lo."
Heart racing the way only he has ever been able to make her, she just hangs on to his foreharms, her nose coming to nuzzle him playfully.
"You're very welcome, Smallville."
With a last peck, he moves his hand to hers and turns it to expose the device, smirking at her confused expression.
"Do you mind if I call her for you?"
Beaming, she happily lets him take it. She heads in, and Lois closes her eyes as she leans against the closed door, head realing with the events of the last hours.
Hell, of the last year.
As the pressure and adrenaline fall, she starts laughing. Softly, first, and then hysterically, unable to stop, heart about to burst at the thought of her son now safe in his Kansas bed, and of her man alive mere centimers away from her.
Damn, what a ride.
When she finally manages to control herself, Lois makes her way into the dark room in front of her, only lighted by the full moon of this incredible night. Making out the shape of the lamp, she approches and lit it with the matches next to it, and sighs in contentment as she stretches, tiredness crashing down on her at once.
She kicks of her shoes, and, vaguely noticing how dusty her sweater is, proceeds to take it off as well and change into one of the thick shirts stored next to the bed.
Before she completely does, though, strong hands come to help her, and easily get ride of it as goosebumps raise on her arms.
They have so much to talk about. She knows that, and knows he does, too.
But right now, with the forgotten yet familiar touch of Clark on her, his unearthly warmth behind her and soft lips on the sensitive skin of her neck, all she wants – all she needs – is him.
His arms come to completely snake around her waist and suddenly he's right against her, his body aligned with hers as he buries his face in her neck, whispering her name. She's so relieved, so happy she fears she might cry from the intensity of it all.
In that moment, Lois figures that there's really only one thing to say.
Turning in his embrace, she slips her own arms around him and holds on so tight it might hurt anyone kisses him then, fingers holding on to his cape, his neck, his hair, and, barely backing away, gently runs them over his strong jaw.
"I love you, Clark," she whispers, suddenly desperate to let him know, desperate to say it to make up for the fact that on terrible night, she didn't. "I love you so much."
Chuckling, his hand travels up her exposed back, waking goosebumps there in its wake as well, and settles on the back of her neck as he leans even closer to her.
"I know," he smiles, blue eyes meeting her own, and, just as he always seems to, she feels like he understands. "I think I like you too," he deadpans, and she laughs, the butterflies in her stomach going wild as he kisses her again.
An embarrasing moan escapes her, and she feels him smirk against her lips, but she doesn't care. In a swift movement, he has sweeped her off her feet, and her legs lock behind his back on instinct as he holds her with one arm.
She almost forgot how sexy that was.
After that, despite the initial plan, there's not much talking.
Neither of them can't bring themselves to care.
"How is he?"
"He's amazing," she beams, and Clark chuckles, amused at her enthusiasm. "It's true! I know he's still a baby, and I'm biaised - whatever," she rolls her eyes. "But I swear he is."
"I don't doubt it. What does he look like? What does he like? Is he okay?," he rushes, expression worried at his last question, and it's Lois' time to chuckle at how cute he is.
"He's fine," she says reassuringly. "We were scared that there might be complications at first, or that he'll have trouble with Earth atmosphere like you did, but he's perfectly fine. And no," she adds before he even has to ask. "He doesn't have any special abilities. And since yours showed when you were a baby, that most probably mean he'll never develop any."
He closes his eyes in relief, and she watches as he smiles, the sight enough to make her lips go up as well.
"Good – that's good."
"That facilitated things for sure," she smiles. "Although his level of energy seems pretty suspect to me. As for your other question," she smirks, pecking his lips, "hold on."
Jumping out of the rustic bed, she draps herself in his cape and goes to get her phone from where he left it. When she comes back, she looks up to meet his eyes looking at her like that, looking at her that way she missed so much, and that, apparently, still leaves her blushing.
"That cape looks far better on you, you know."
She scoffs to try and hide her pink cheeks."I'm sure every woman on Earth would disagree with you, but thanks."
Walking straight into his arms, Lois makes herself comfortable against his chest, dropping a small kiss under his jaw when he wraps himself around her body again. Unlocking her phone, she starts looking.
"I don't have him as my screen picture because I don't want some of the jerks I interview to see him by mistake," she explains, focused. "But here he is," she finally says proudly. Handing him the phone, she looks up to see his reaction.
For a few seconds that seem like an eternity, Clark doesn't speak. He just – stares.
"As you can tell, he's all me," she tries to joke after a moment, and he smiles.
"Well, he does have your nose. And freckles," he chuckles, looking closer. "He's - " he tries, but can only swallow, apparently at loss for words.
"Yeah," he nods, and smiles broadly at her. "Perfect."
But then his smile fades, and, just as she expected at some point, she watches as his expression turns into a guilty one. "I'm really sorry I wasn't here for you – both of you."
Sitting up so she can properly face him, Lois runs her fingers on his forearm, her other hand resting on his stomach, voice gentle but firm.
"Clark, if it hadn't been for you, neither of us would be here today. Any of us, really – that thing was going to destroy the city."
And it would have. If he hadn't sacrificed himself, Doomsday would have killed them one by one, without them being able to do anyting to do about it. As true as it was, that fact didn't make his death any easier for her to bare, but she hopes that now, it can at least make him feel better.
"Yeah, well, still," he says after a while, looking at the picture of Jon one more time before shaking his head, frustrated. "It couldn't have been easy, doing this on your own."
"It wasn't," she admits, and he looks up at her, eyes full of anguish. "Some days, it was terrible. But it's not like I'm the only one who has had to do it, you know – a lot of women do. And once we got through the "I won't stop crying and I won't sleep through night because I'm a baby and I want you to suffer" phase, it was okay," she shrugs, and she's proud of herself when he chuckles.
"That bad, huh?"
"Oh yeah. I mean, I love him to death, but he used to cry all the time. And I didn't even know why! If it wasn't for your mother, I'm pretty sure I would have cried as much as him everyday. Thanks to her, it only happened like, four times. Top," she raises a finger.
"So you weren't completely alone?" He tries to hide how sad the idea makes him, but she sees right through him, and smiles.
"Far from it. Perry made everything easy for me at the Planet, and after Jon was born, he and Jenny came to visit at least once a week."
"Mhmm. And your mom...She was just – so great. She was there since day one," she continues. She settles back on her side under the sheets, making sure to bring him down to face her as her arms sneak around him. "She was so supportive, even when I didn't know if was going to keep it or not. And when he arrived, she came to live with us."
"Really?," he can't help but blurt out, surprised.
"Yeah. For more than a month, actually – she was awesome. I mean, at some points, I think Jon loved her more than he did me, but I was too relieved to care," she only half-jokes. "I don't think I can ever repay her."
"Well, you brought me back," he simply whispers, the few words enough to send her heart a million miles an hour. "I think she'll appreciate that," and he kisses her, long, soft, tender. He backs away, way too soon for her taste, though, and she pouts, still holding on to his muscular back.
When she opens her eyes again, he's looking right at her, his eyes serious, asking.
"What about you?"
"Me? I told you: I was pretty tired, but once he started sleeping - "
"No, I'm not talking about that."
He doesn't add anything, doesn't specify what he's talking about, but he doesn't have too.
And she could lie to him. She wants to, actually, because she knows that knowing the truth will only make him feel more guilty when he shouldn't be, especially considering she's fine now – she's amazing. But if two years with him have taught her anything, is that if she can read him like a book, Clark can do the same thing with her.
So, she just tells him the truth.
"It sucked. It was awful," she admits, burrying herself against him for comfort, head tucked under his chin. "When you didn't wake up, I - "
She can't seem to be able to continue, though, her voice suddenly caught in her throat at the worst memory she has. The one she wishes she could forget, the one that haunted her almost every night – and probably always will. Subconsciously, her grip on him tightens.
"I'm sorry," he whispers in her ear. "We don't have to talk about it."
"No, it's okay. It's just – Everything collapsed. One second, I thought we were finally getting out of that hell we had been through, and the next, you were gone, and I didn't know what to do anymore. I litteraly didn't know what to do, and it just hurt so much, like, all the time. I thought I was going to suffocate or something."
Lois feels his fingers in her hair and on her back, drawing small circles in an attempt to soothe her. "And then Jon came," she smiles against his neck, and she can feel him do the same. "I don't know what I would have done without that little guy."
"Did you really think about not keeping him?," he asks, not a note of accusation in his tone. He just wants to know.
"I guess. I didn't know if I was strong enough, and I didn't want him to have to pay because I was a mess. But in the end - " she continues. "It was our baby."
"And he's amazing," he smiles, flipping her on her back so he can hover over her, holding himself on the forearms he settles on both sides of her head not to crush her.
Chuckling, she moves her arms around his neck, the bad memories already forgotten by his proximity.
"He's amazing," she confirms, fingers threading in his hair. For a moment, she just looks at him, taking in every detail of his face she was afraid she would forgot. "Wonder where he got that from."
Leaning down, Clark kisses her gently, so impossibly gently, and Lois knows it's to let her know it's okay, that he's home now, and that he'll never leave again.
He doesn't stop until the sun rises, and it's time to head to Kansas.
"Are you okay?" she asks gently as they stand in front of his childhood home. His eyes are fixed on the upper floor, and she knows he can probably see him already. An arm around his own, she squeezes his hand with her free one.
Coming back to reality, he smiles at her.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just – strange."
"It is," she chuckles, thumb running circles on his soft skin. Tightening her grip, she turns more serious. "Clark, we really don't have to do this now. After all you just been through, we can just - "
"No no, I want to see him," he responds promptly, a little panicked at the idea of not being able to, and Lois can't hide a huge grin at that.
Of course, she knows that Clark would love his child – she knows. Still, having to process in a few hours that while you were dead, you had a baby that is now almost six months old without being prepared for it in any way, shape or form probably isn't that easy, and she would have understand if he had needed time to get used to the idea. Hell, she would have understand if he had completely freak out.
She would have, but Lois is still immensely relieved that he's not, and feels an odd mix of fear and overwhelming joy at the thought that her two men are about to meet.
Chuckling nervously, he shakes his head. "I just hope that I don't do anything – or that he doesn't hate me, or - "
"Babe, calm down," she laughs, throwing both her arms around his neck, getting on her toes to kiss him.
God, how she missed that.
He relaxes at her touch, leaning in and kissing her back just as tenderly, and she pecks him one more time before smiling up at him, fingers in his hair. "He's a baby, not teenager or a demon, which I'm told is pretty much the same thing," and he chuckles at that. "And luckily for us, so far he seems to have your character, not mine, so he's pretty adorable."
Lois can see he's still a little stressed out, which is understandable, but he nods confidently, excitement visible on his beautoful Kryptonian face.
Before either of them can add anything, though, the screen door opens, and they both turn to see a shaken Martha on the porch, her body completely still as she stares at them – at him.
Smiling, she looks back at Clark. "But first, I believe you have an awesome mother to go greet."
She hangs back for a moment, letting them have their moment, but even from where she stands, she can see how huge Martha's smile is. She's crying, she's laughing, she's holding him as close as she can when she's not too busy just looking at him, trembling hands on his cheeks, and Lois tries not to cry from emotion herself.
"He's upstairs, honey - I think he's still sleeping."
"Actually, he just woke up," Clark says, eyes looking through the ceiling as he stands in the clothes he's found in the cabinet, too big for the living room.
Smiling knowingly at Martha, Lois looks back at him, approaching him to lace her fingers with his. Putting a gentle kiss on his shoulder, she looks up at him, and drops her chin on his shoulder as she hears his mother head for the kitchen to start the coffee.
"Do you want to go get him?"
That seems to bring him back to reality, and his pretty blue eyes land on her again, hesitant, questioning, and slightly scared.
"He doesn't even know me – he'll probably scream," he chuckles, more nerve than anything else.
"He knows you ever since he was born, Clark."
He frowns."What do you mean?"
"I mean, he sees pictures of you almost everyday," she says at his slightly surprised expression. "And I've told him about you – almost everyday as well. I'm pretty sure your mother does the same," she smiles, hand grazing his cheek at the look he gives her.
As if that idea wouldn't even as crossed his silly mind. "You're his dad, Smallville: I wanted him to know you. No matter what."
After a while, he finally nods, and squeezes back.
She lets him go as he almost relulanctly makes his way to the staircase. He turns around just before going up, though, and Lois has to stop herself from laughing at how adoringbly cute he is, all worried and nervous.
"What do I do if he cries?"
"I'll come up to rescue you, Superman. But considering he's willing to go to strangers arms if I let him – which is getting a little worrying, by the way – I promise you'll be fine," she smiles reassuringly.
Of course, Lois can't wait to see her baby boy – it's been two days, which is longer than they've ever been separated – but she wants to let Clark have that. That moment, that magical moment when you meet your child for the first time, and your world suddenly stops and completely changes.
That moment when you're alone with that little bundle of energy that immediatey becomes the love of your life, and everything becomes just right.
She realizes she's been staring at the spot he just disappeared into when she feels Martha's hand on her shoulder, making her almost jump in surprise.
And they laugh. The terrible fear that's finally been lifted off their chests, the exhaustion, the happiness and the pure craziness of everything that happened take over, and they laugh like maniacs, a few tears escaping at they hold each other, a single though enough to make all that pain disappear.
And, just like that, they start their life together.
Her, Jon, and Clark.
"He's so small," he wonders softly, fingers gently brushing the dark curls out of his little forehead.
He's sitting on their Metropolis bed, knees bend so he can lay the baby on his laps. A position that the little one clearly enjoys, considering how fast he fell asleep. The traitor: with her, it takes usually twice the time.
Smiling inwardly at the amazed expression on his face and simply at the sight of them, Lois crawls in with her men, cudling close to Clark to get her share of his warmth.
"You should have seen him when he got out: I was afraid I was going to break him," and her eyes go from small Kent to little Kent when he chuckles. "What?"
"'Got out'? Really?," and she has to stop herself from smiling too much as his amused expression alone.
That man's so cute, though. More than that – he's beautiful.
"Hey, I'm the one who had to do it: I get to call it whatever I want," and she laughs with him as she drops her head on his shoulder, then arranges Jon's pyjama top, hand lingering on his chest where she can feel his heartbeat. She doesn't think she could ever get tired of that.
"He loves you already."
"You think?," he asks, genuiely wondering. Moving her hand to his forearm, she squeezes gently, his skin warm under her touch.
Lois feels Clark place a small kiss on her forehead, and it occurs to her that she's never felt so at home before.
"Wait, so where's that supposed to go?"
"Here. And then you push there, and it locks it."
"Yeah, but where do I – That thing doesn't make any sense!"
Patting his shoulder, Lois barely stops herself from laughing at the irritated look on his face.
"Welcome to the world of baby equipment, honey."
"So: how did that first day alone with terror Kent go, Smallville?," she asks, making her way towards a very good looking Kryptonian on the couch.
One knee between his legs, she leans in to kiss him, smiling when he draps his arms around her and bring her to him. She settles her legs on each side of his narrow waist, and happily lets herself fall on this cushions behind them as he kisses her again.
When he pulls back, he's smiling, and looks more relaxed than ever as he looks up at her, head comfortably resting on the soft material.
"It went amazing. I got two things confirmed today."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Well, first, he really does love cuddling, even when it's just me," and she smiles at how glad that makes him.
At how glad she is that Jon loves him so much already, and that Clark can see it.
"Second, he really, really doesn't love carrot," and she chuckles at that.
"Please, tell me you didn't try."
"Oh, I did. He spitted it out right in my face," and this time she can't help but laugh, really laugh as she imagines his expression when the whole thing was thrown back at him.
At some point, he has to put his hand on her mouth so she won't wake the baby, and he smiles, amused as she buries herself in his neck to muffle the sound. "Well, you can laugh, but at least he helped me get lucky afterwards to make amends," and she looks up to see him smirk.
"We went out for a walk for an hour." His grin gets bigger. "I got hit on three times."
"I did. As it turns out, walking around with a toddler does really attract women: that's not a myth."
"Ugh," she rolls her eyes, dropping on the sofa next to me. "I should have seen that one coming: now they have an excuse to come talk to you out of nowhere," she mumbles, exasperated – and, yeah, maybe a little bit annoyed. Just a bit.
"I'm messing with you. They didn't really hit on me, they just – found Jon very cute. They were way more interested in him than in me," he says like the sweet thing that he is, and she gives him a look. "I mean it!"
"Okay: out of the three of them, how many asked you if you were a single dad?"
He opens his eyes to answer, but comes up with nothing to say, knowing he's defeated. "Exactly," she chuckles. "Face it: you got hit on, Superdad. And now I'm going to have to raise my game up, because so many pretty ladies are going to throw themselves at you," she says dramatically, and smiles when he comes to lay on her.
"Don't worry," he cooes, kissing her shoulder before making his way up. Her eyes flutter close as his lips travel over her skin, and she hangs on to his neck when she his hands settle on her hips.
She feels his smile grow against her jaw. "There's only one lady for me."
Lazily stretching among the soft sheets, Lois wakes to the familiar cries of Jon in the next room, impatiently calling for her, his face no doubt constricted in his annoyed little face.
Drapping a hand over her face, she lets her other arm fall on Clark's side of the bed, even though she knows she'll find it empty: his mother called yesterday to ask him to come help her lift some stuff, and he'd promise to go.
Making a mental note to get Martha those cupcakes she likes on 4th Street before they all go see her next weekend, Lois gets up, enjoying the sweet Saturday sun on her face as she heads for the little Kent's room. As she enters, it occurs to her that, much like his father, he has a very strong effect on her: every time she sees him, she, the independant, stoic, said to be heart of ice Lois Lane can't help but grin.
"Hey," she whispers as she approaches his crib, smiling even more when he stops crying at the sight of her. Grinning, she gently lifts him up above her head. "Hello there, handsome."
She then kisses his little cheeks, chuckling at his non-sensical happy babbling before holding him close, head burried on his shoulder, hand behind his neck as he closes his chubby arms around her neck.
After enjoying a little quiet cuddling time with her man, she changes his diaper before heading to the kitchen, speaking softly as he nudges his face in the crook of her neck.
On that front, he completely took after her: he is not a morning person.
"We'll have to take breakfast without daddy: he's helping grandma today," and she nods at his responsive baby words."Mmhm. He'll be back, though, don't worry. So, how did you sleep last night? Because I slept great", she raises eyebrows to make him laugh as she settles to nurse him comfortably.
Not so long ago, Lois used to spend her weekends working on her on going articles, or, when finished, keeping her eye out for her next story. It all changed when Clark came along, of course, as, as would be expected of him, he made sure she took her head out of her work for at least two days, and got decent sleeping ins. She didn't mind: even if she would never admit it directly to him, it felt pretty good to trat herself to a time off after her crazy weeks.
Plus, all this time was spent with him instead, which was pretty great.
Now, with Jon in the equation, it was the same: it became unthinkable for her to willingly go to an interview or follow a lead when those were the only days she could have him with her from morning to bedtime.
It's closing on eleven o'clock when Clark eventually gets back. They're playing on the floor, Jon settled between her crossed legs among the mountain of cubes, teddy bears and musical books, and she chuckles as his head immediately snaps up at the sound of the keys being turned in the lock.
"Oh, who's that?"
Babbling something incomprehensible, Jon's arms start to go up and down with excitment as Clark finally crosses the door, his smile growing instantly when he spots them.
"Morning here," he says, dropping the bag full of food he's carrying with him.
His smile disappears as fast as it came, and their suprised eyes lock, both silenced in shock for a few seconds. Which he doesn't seem to care about, given the way he keeps trying to jingle out of her arms and into his, happily repeating his demands.
Stunned, Lois looks down at him, and then at Clark again.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
"He - ", Clark starts, clearing his throat to be able to speak, head tilting to the side as he points to Jon. "That's the first time he does that, right?"
"Dadda!", he cries again growing impatient, and Lois nods, deception weighing on her.
"I can't believe he just did that to me," she whines as Clark finally reaches to take Jon into his strong arms, lifting him up before making him giggle with kisses to to his stomach, his neck, his face.
Oh, come on.
"Now do you believe he likes you?," she says sarcastically as she gets up, torn between joy from hearing her little boy's voice for the first time and what she knows to be a petty jealousy. But still.
Given the way Clark finally tears his eyes away from Jon to look at her, she doesn't cover it all that well.
"Oh come on honey, that doesn't mean anything," he chuckles, a happy grin still stuck on his stupid beautiful face.
"Yeah, right." Shaking his head, he walks towards her, dropping a kiss to her lips.
"Lo, with you talking to him about me for more than six months, he's probably heard the word "Dad" far more that he has "Mom"," he reasons, thumb gently running on her cheek. "That's it."
On cue, Jon reaches for her, looking at her with big, sparkling eyes as he points to Clark and keeps calling him "Dadda". He's so happy, both from having his father back and from being able to talk, and he seems so proud to show that to her that her small disappoint immediately melts, and she can't help her own grin.
"Yeah, you're talking," she chuckles, kissing his cheek as he happily keeps showing them his new skill. "My big boy. But so you know," she adds, a finger pointed towards Clark, "if his next word isn't "Mama", I'm out of here."
"Well, franckly, I'll make fun of you – and probably won't be the only one," she rolls her eyes, amused, as Clark looks up at her questionningly. "But sure. Alright, see you tonight."
Closing the door behind her, Lois hangs up. "That was Barry: he asked if he could come as a clown tonight," and Clark chuckles at that, shaking his head.
"Bruce will never let him live this down."
She snorts. "Neither will I. Now," she smiles as she walks towards them, settling at the end of the dining table and opening the little box in her hands. "I know the party's only this afternoon, but I thought we could celebrate now."
Carefully taking the little pastrie out, Lois puts the white and yellow candle in the middle of it, making sure not to mess up the "S" icing resting on top of it. "Just the three of us," she adds softly.
Of course, as usual when in the presence of something sugary, Jon starts to wingle his little arms excintingly, his breakfast completely forgotten as he tries to fight Clark's grip on him to launch on the table. Clark, who right now has the biggest smile on his face, his eyes on her making it hard for her not to do the same.
"Mama! Cake, cake!"
Chuckling at the little boy's excitment, he nods toward said cake.
"Superman cupcake, huh?" and she shrugs innocently.
"Well, what can I say? We're a big fan of his." Putting her hand in front of the baby's eyes for a second, she grins at Clark.
"Care to light this party up, Smallville?"
Smirking, he does as he's told, his blue eyes turning bright red just enough to make a small flame appear. Lois takes her hand away, and they both chuckle at the amazed expression on his face at what must appear to him as the most incredible magic trick.
Smiling, Clark gently kisses the top of his head, his grip gentle but firm around Jon, and Lois feels her chest expands at the sight of them as he talks again.
"Happy birthday, son."