Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, though I wish I did.

This is just a short little oneshot I had lurking around in the back of my brain today, so I thought I'd type it up! Not much to it, but I hope you all enjoy!

A Life Less Ordinary

Lois moaned sleepily and shrugged off the hand that was resting on her shoulder as she burrowed even deeper under her warm bedcovers. When she heard a soft chuckle in her ear and the hand moved to her hip, she reluctantly cracked open one eye and glared at the clock on her nightstand. 6:30 a.m. Glancing from the clock to the window, she saw no sunlight streaming through the double panes of glass, so she clamped her eyelids shut again. No, there was absolutely no way she was getting out of her warm and cozy bed at this godforsaken time of the morning. She couldn't think of one thing in the entire universe that could compel her to do such an insane thing.

"C'mon, sleepyhead," she heard a voice drawl lazily in her ear as the hand rubbed her hip encouragingly. When she only grunted in reply, the covers were pulled down far enough that warm breath could caress her shoulder as a soft kiss was planted on her bare skin. "Time to get up," the voice whispered again.

"Go away," Lois growled. The man was positively cruel, she decided. He knew very well that she'd been up late the night before; he'd been up late with her. And now he was expecting her to get out of bed? He was crazy, that's all there was to it. Just because he didn't need much sleep didn't mean she was willing to forego a full eight hours. After all, she firmly believed that if mornings were meant to be enjoyed, they'd be scheduled later in the day.

"I mean it, Clark. I'm going to smother you with a pillow if you don't leave me alone," she threatened grumpily as she tried to throw the covers back over her head, but he had a firm grasp of them and wasn't letting go.

She could hear his smile in his voice – damn the man – when he said, "Last chance! Remember, you made me swear to make sure you got up early this morning, no matter how much you protested."

"I was lying," she mumbled. "Try again in another four hours."

"Now, Lois. You don't want me to resort to using a bucket of cold water again, do you?" Though he was chuckling as he spoke, Lois knew he was not above doing following through on his threat.

Gasping in indignation, Lois lurched up in bed and turned to glare at him. "You wouldn't!" She was almost certain he'd learned his lesson the last time he pulled that trick.

Smirking, Clark said brightly, "Good morning beautiful." And ignoring her glare, he leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. "Come on, sweetheart. I have some coffee brewed; we have to be in early today." Then, displaying a level of energy that Lois found frankly obscene this early in the morning, he hopped out of bed and headed towards the bedroom door. When she threw her pillow at his retreating back, he only chuckled and kept moving.

She was going to kill him.

Ten hours later, Lois accepted that she should have stuck with her impulse to stay in bed. The day was just not going well. In fact, it was so far beyond "not well" that to call it "horrendous" wouldn't be much of an overstatement.

"No!" Lois shrieked as she slammed her palms down on the top of her desk and stared in outrage at the computer screen in front of her. The black computer screen. The black computer screen that, not two minutes before, had been covered with the almost-perfect text of the filler article she'd been assigned while she and Clark worked on their bigger story. Her article was now lost in a cybernetic void, never to be heard from again. The string of curses she let loose would have made a sailor blush.

She was contemplating how much of a hassle it would be to throw the computer out the nearest window when Clark came up behind her. "Okay, Lois. Calm down," he said as he took in the scene in front of him and must have realized her intentions. "When was the last time you saved the file?"

Lois snarled at him in response, and he let out the long-suffering sigh of a man who's been down this road with her before and knows where it ends.

"Okay, scoot over," he said in resignation, pulling up a chair. "I'll help you resurrect your article."

Though she was still scowling at the screen, Lois sighed in defeat and leaned forward to restart her computer as Clark moved beside her. Sure, what she'd written before had been perfect, but her article wouldn't be snatched from the jaws of oblivion now because she complained about the unfairness of power surges.

So instead, she scooted back her chair and jumped to her feet. If she was going to have to spend at least another hour at work, she was going to need some caffeine to keep her going. She paused just long enough to dump the rest of her coffee in the potted plant by her desk (she had no idea what type of plant it was, but it seemed to be thriving rather alarmingly on a steady diet of the bitter dregs of ice cold coffee) before heading across the room to pour herself a new cup.

As she added a little coffee to her sugar, Lois sighed and looked across the room at Clark. It really was sweet of him to stick around just to help her, especially since he really didn't have any need to do so. She winced when she realized she hadn't been particularly pleasant all afternoon, and her partner and husband was always the one who took the brunt of her displeasure. She really should make it up to him somehow.

When she returned to her desk, Clark was staring intently at her notes, so she gently placed a fresh mug of coffee down next to his right elbow. "Here you go, handsome. And I'm sure this is stale, but I did what I could." When he turned to look at her, she handed him a plate with a glazed donut on top. It was left over from that morning, but she'd warmed it up in the microwave long enough to get the glaze all nice and gooey, just the way he liked it.

"Thanks, Lois," he said with a smile as she plopped back into her chair and returned her attention to the keyboard.

The one hour she'd figured it would take to rewrite the story turned into three, but the two of them finally turned the copy in and were able to return home. Wearily, Lois limped through the front door to the apartment she shared with Clark, one heel of her shoe clutched in her right hand. Her dedication to her work was known cause the occasional wardrobe casualty, which she generally took in stride. But having the heel break off her favorite pair of shoes, just as she stepped onto the curb in front of her building, was the icing on an altogether dreary day.

Glaring morosely at the object in her hand, she flopped down on the sofa and swiped the hair off her forehead with one impatient gesture of her hand. Her feet were killing her. Her back throbbed. The pressure behind her eyes promised a raging headache would be upon her soon. And what was the reward for all the punishment she'd withstood today?

Nothing. Not a damn thing. Not one significant lead had panned out. At this rate, she and Clark wouldn't get the story they were working on published until three years from next June. If they were lucky.

Groaning, she flopped her head back on the back of the sofa and squeezed her eyes shut. Then she felt gentle fingers caress her temples and she opened her eyes to see Clark's soft smile shining down at her. "Headache?" he asked softly.

"Throughout my entire body," she replied with another moan, only this one was in appreciation of the things his fingers were doing to her poor abused head.

"Want to lay down for awhile?" he offered sympathetically.

Throwing him a grateful smile, Lois reached up and grabbed one of his hands as she replied, "Actually, right now, I'd love to curl up here on the couch with you."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked as he vaulted over the back of the sofa and landed on the seat next to her. "I suppose if you twist my arm hard enough, I could be convinced to stay here next to you."

Rolling her eyes, Lois elbowed him in the ribs. "Yeah, if yo –" she began, but a wide yawn caused her to break off in mid-sentence.

Without a word, Clark grabbed her gently and leaned back until the two of them were stretched out along the length of the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around her. It didn't take long before Lois breathed a deep sigh of contentment and drifted off to sleep. Dimly, as she slept, she felt his arms tighten around her, pulling her closer. She heard the sound of his heartbeat and the steady rhythm of his breathing and sank into the safety and comfort of his embrace. Finally, when he gently stroked her hair away from her face, she gave up all pretense of consciousness and gave herself over to her dreams.

A while later, when Clark tightened his hold around her waist and leaned forward slightly, Lois mumbled in protest and opened her eyes to look up at him.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean to wake you; I was going to carry you into the other room."

"No, it's okay," she said with a wide yawn as she stood and stretched. "C'mon, Smallville. I think it's time we both headed to bed." Linking her hand with his, she pulled him to his feet and walked with him into the bedroom.

Curled up under the covers, Lois reached for the man in bed next to her. It was dark in the room; no moonlight was shining through the windows against the far wall to illuminate his figure, but she knew the planes of his face as well as she knew her own. She gently brushed her fingers across his brow, along the curve of his cheek, down to the cleft in his chin, before brushing them gently across his mouth.

"I thought you wanted to get some sleep," he said, his voice slightly uneven as her lips followed the path her fingers had made.

Lois grinned in response. "Later," she promised, and then words were lost as his mouth met hers and what had begun as a simple touch in the dark became much more.

It had been just another Monday for Lois Lane. It hadn't been exciting; writing about it sure as hell wouldn't win anyone a Pulitzer. It was the type of day, in fact, that she had long ago repeatedly sworn would bore her to tears. Yet, in Clark's arms, Lois honestly couldn't believe that she'd once longed for a life less ordinary.