Reading the prologue below might make you think this will be a shippy story. It's not, really. What happens, needs to happen for plot reasons. Everything will become clear later on.


Coffee, Kissing and Clom

Lois's eyes briefly flicked up from her computer screen to the fresh cup of coffee her colleague had just placed in front of her.

"Thank you, Smallville." she said, and was right back to work, typing as fast as she could, hoping Clark would proof read it as he usually did and spot any mistakes she made.

Clark collapsed into his own seat behind his desk, taking a sip of his own coffee. He surveyed the empty basement of the Daily Planet, and yawned. Though he didn't need as much sleep as regular people, 2 a.m. was still a bit much.

"Smallville, look alive!" came the sharp call from across his desk. "Don't fall asleep on me now, we're almost done."

"I'm wide awake Lois." He told her, and immediately felt another yawn coming on. He took a big gulp of his coffee, though he wasn't sure if it would make any difference. He knew Alcohol didn't affect him, but he had never gotten around to testing caffeine. No time like the present, he thought, and took a second swig.

Lois rolled her eyes as she caught him trying to stifle another yawn. Clark had potential in this line of work, he'd proven that already, but for the moment he was still an amateur. Lois had gotten used to all-nighters a few weeks into her journalism career, and had accepted it as part of the job. Although, she supposed, a farmer was more used to waking up in the early hours of the morning, not staying up into them.

He didn't even need to be here. If it was a story he had joined her on, she'd understand, but this was her story she was staying behind to finish. Clark had just tagged along; in case she needed any help, he had said. How much of a help he could be by getting her cups of coffee every half hour and struggling to keep his eyes open, was anyone's guess.

She looked at him across their desks; he was slumped back in his chair, cup of coffee gradually turning over onto his chest, and his eyelids were drooping closed further and further, but they suddenly snapped back open as he realised he was falling asleep. She couldn't help the smirk that found it's way onto her face.

"Smallville, you can go home if you want to."

"For the last time, Lois, I'm fine."

"You're spilling coffee on you're shirt."

He looked down and saw that that the warm black liquid was indeed running over the top of his mug and onto his shirt. He sighed and stood up, grabbing a napkin off his desk and dabbing at the stain.

"Another glorious moment for Clark Kent, reporter!" Lois laughed, leaning back in her own chair. "Well, wannabe-reporter anyway."

"You know something Lois? I'm here to help you, you could show some appreciation."

"Oh, I'm so grateful you're here to fall asleep and spill coffee all over yourself." Clark tried to fire back, but she cut him off. She was too tired to banter with him at the moment. "Smallville, if you're here to help me then come around here and proof read what I've done so far."

He rolled his eyes, but put down his napkin and started to walk around to her desk, accidentally kicking a trash can over along the way.

Lois sighed. She missed working across from Chloe.

After picking up all the pieces of garbage, he was in a chair next to her, leaning forward so he could read her screen.

Lois took the opportunity to get a good look at his face. He looked tired. And not just because it was approaching 3 in the morning. He just looked worn out in general.

"Smallville?" she said, softer this time.

"What?" he muttered in reply, keeping his eyes on her screen.

"Why are you here?"

For a few seconds, he didn't answer. "To help you." he eventually said, and then pointed out, "There's only one 't' in suspect."

She rolled her eyes, something she did a lot around him. "No, seriously. You look tired, why aren't you at home?"

This time, he didn't answer.

With caution, she asked, "Is Lana still there?"


And there it was. Chloe had mentioned to Lois that things at the Kent household were beyond awkward since Lana returned from being AWOL. But Lois hadn't thought about it much, and she certainly hadn't thought about what had almost happened between her and Clark at the very moment Lana had came back. Nor had she or Clark mentioned the incident since her own return from Star City. It was probably for the best, no need for another environment to become awkward. Still, it was now clear that Clark had stayed late because he didn't want to go home.

"Wanna talk about it?" She asked. He was still facing her screen.

"That's the wrong use of 'there', you mean 't-h-e-i-r'."


He finally looked at her, and Lois saw that the exhaustion on his face was nothing compared to his eyes.


She briefly thought about pushing it, but he just looked so beat, she didn't have it in her.

"Okay, but if you need to, I'm here."

Clark held her gaze for a few seconds, and then returned to the screen, mumbling a "Thanks."

She had just started to enjoy the comfortable silence that followed, when he she heard him let out a small laugh.


"It's just, with Chloe in Star City with Jimmy, and me and Lana not being on the best of terms, you're the only one I can talk to."

She saw what he was saying. "Funny how things turn out?" she said, with a grin of her own.


They allowed themselves to laugh a little, proof reading long forgotten. And then Lois said:

"I guess a lot of things have changed between us."

He stopped laughing, and looked at her again, a different look in his eyes this time.

"Yeah," he said. "they have."

Before she could say anything else, he was kissing her. He was upset, she told herself, hurt over Lana. She should stop him, but she didn't. She couldn't. And so they were kissing.

The Doctor hurtled himself through the doors of the TARDIS, falling flat on his face. Picking himself up and closing the doors behind him, he burst out laughing. The look on those guard's faces! And all he'd done was question their Queen's choice of wigs; hardly enough to chase him. Surely he'd learnt by now not to offend alien dictators. He took of his beloved burgundy Converse to asses the damage, and groaned when he saw them covered in the greenish mud native to the planet Clom. That was the last time he checked to make sure they had survived being dragged across space. They could sort themselves out from now on.

Just as he started thinking about where he was off to next, the TARDIS interrupted. The engines of the TARDIS, to be precise, as the familiar grinding noise rang throughout the console room. Surprised, he looked at the ancient mechanics rising and falling in the crystal-like beam that stood in the centre of the room.

"What?" he muttered, and rushed over to the console. The TARDIS appeared to be flying of its own accord. Admittedly, not something new, but not something that was generally good news. The last time it had happened, he had gained and lost a daughter in the space of a few hours.

As the ship took flight and the floor shook, the Doctor tried the emergency break, the auto-materializer, and the external over-ride, but all to no avail. The TARDIS had made up its mind, and that was that.

Hoping to at least see where they where going, he pulled the monitor towards him and looked at it.

"What?!" he shouted. With nothing else to do, he braced for landing by grabbing onto the rail behind him. With one last jerk, the TARDIS touched down. Grabbing his long coat and throwing it over his blue suit, he rushed outside the doors.

Corn, or more accurately, Corn-stalks, were all the Doctor was able to see for miles around. Except, however, for a sign.

A sign that told him he was in 'The Meteorite Capital of the World'


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