Mornings on the Farm
By Bren Ren

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Summary: A series (in progress ;) ) of short scenes of Lois Lane's favorite time of day at her new home-away-from-home, the Kent Farm in Smallville.

Rating: T, Teen for somewhat harsh language

Disclaimer: If y'all hadn't left so much material from Offscreenville on the Editing Room floor, we wouldn't have to cover your asses with fanfiction. Just go ahead and admit that you enjoy letting us fill in the gaps as much as we do and the world will be a much happier place!
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Mornings on the Farm:
Morning the First
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"Enjoying the fresh country air?"

"The smell of cows, the chirping din of a Hitchcock film, and let's not forget the roosters' pre-dawn wake-up call more jarring than the opening of "Time" on a twenty-six foot stack of Mackie-speakers with 1500-watt amps." At the askance look of total non-comprehension on Clark's face, I elaborated with an exaggerated eye-roll. " 'Time' ? Pink Floyd? Opens with an army of cuckoo clocks and chimes screaming for about a full minute? Ring any bells?"

"Sorry. Not too familiar with Pink Floyd."

"Seriously? Smallville, you have got to expand your musical horizons." It was hard to tell whether that was fear… or perhaps a mix of shock and interest that lit up his face for a moment. Either way, it disappeared as fast as it flashed into its brief existence. In an instant, he shifted right back into what seemed to be his customary faintly bemused smirk.

One that was tinged with a fair dose of smugness.

"Not a fan of country living, then."

"Those… birds…" I spat it out like a dirty word. "Never shut up!" He laughed at me, just irking me all the more. So I irked back. "And don't get me started on the smell!" I shot him a pointed look, crinkling my nose with a very loud (and very unladylike, I could hear Mom saying) huff, purely for effect.

And it was definitely effective. My eyes danced with glee, though I tried not to gloat. Much.

"That's what happens when you spend the first couple of pre-dawn hours working on chores and other strenuous activities."

"So, grunt work."

His eyes and jaws snapped shut for a second, and I just couldn't help the little victorious giggle that bubbled out. He really was quite fun to bait, I decided. In fact, I realized, I could really have some fun with this one.

Oh, hell.

I could really get myself into all kinds of trouble with this one.

No. That would not be good. It would be all kinds of bad, in fact. And this was not the time or the place for that. And he was definitely not the one… No. No way this farm boy could be The One. No way in hell.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to hit the shower."

"Please do. And hit it hard, you need it!" He just glared at me for a half-second before he fled—practically sped away across the porch. "And hurry up," I added just before he got the front door open. "We've got to get out to that not-so-safe house and find out what really happened to Chloe. Daylight's a-burnin'! Isn't that what they say out here in the sticks?"

He didn't bother trying to come up with a witty retort, just tossed me another glare over his shoulder before finishing his not-quite-so-hasty retreat. Score one for Lane, folks!