Chapter Text
It was a good picture of her father. He was standing profile, staring up at Superman, Martian Manhunter, and Green Lantern, surrounded by the remnants of a few destroyed buildings and various spaceship debris. General Sam Lane always looked commanding, but there was something about the contrast of the three superheroes and the middle-aged (he wasn’t old yet, no matter how much Lois and Lucy teased him) human man that Lois found compelling.
Jimmy had a great eye. If he didn’t win another award or prize, Lois would eat her hat. (Well, she would if she had a hat anymore. She missed the signature accessory she had started her career with, but it did save her life from that assassin’s bullet, so. It served her well.) Sure, the Superman photo was amazing, but frankly, after spending so much time with the city’s resident alien, she found it blasé.
“It really is a pity Clark got so sick yesterday,” Jimmy chirped, offering her a new mug of coffee. “I kinda wish I could’ve seen him against your dad and Superman. Now that would be a great shot.”
Lois smirked. “Smallville would have been just fine. Honestly, he probably would have found a way to subtly insult both of them while looking like a complete doofus.”
Jimmy laughed.
Poor Clark. Someone (either Steve or Aaron from sports) had spiked his lunch with laxatives yesterday, so he had left in a rush only a couple hours before the alien attack. Lois and Jimmy done their best without the third member of their investigative dream team, joking that it was jut like Jimmy’s first year as Lois’ intern all over again.
Clark had called her around 11 last night, just as she was finishing up her article. “God, Lois,” he had said, sounding miserable, “I am so sorry. Of all the events to be stuck to miss. I can’t believe I’m stuck here—“
“— worshiping the porcelain god with backwards obeisance?” Lois had snidely cut it, flicking away cement dust absently.
Clark sighed dejectedly. “I’d offer to help, but honestly, I’m kinda stuck here.”
“I wish you could give my article a once-over,” Lois said, ignoring Clark’s murmur of I’d like to give you a once-over, too, “the only person here who can translate my, what do you call ‘em? Creative non-standard spellings? is Jimmy, and he’s wrestling with the photo layout.”
“Oh, well, I did bring my laptop,” Clark said, brighter than she had heard him since the very long ago morning.
“Smallville, you angel. Okay, I’ll CC Perry on it, too, so once you’re done he can give it final approval.” Lois had glanced around the office at the rest of the stragglers. “After that, I’ll probably head home to crash.”
As late as she had been this morning, exhausted even after her first cup of coffee, Lois had still beaten Clark to their desks, where a copy of the morning paper, her name on the byline above the fold, was waiting.
Her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, pleasantly surprised. “Hey Dad,” she greeted him, forcing extra cheer into her voice. “How did the rest of your night go?”
”Between your alien boyfriend and his little superfriends thinking they don’t need to respect the authority of the United States Government? Swell.” came the dry response.
Lois rolled her eyes. “Superman is not my boyfriend, Dad.” She absently grabbed a pen and started scribbling on the picture. “You know that. Please tell me you know that.” She drew a monocle over her father’s face.
”Well maybe it‘ll stick once I meet the actual boyfriend,” General Lane chuckled.
Martian Manhunter was too bald. Lois decided he needed a mohawk. “Good. I think you’ll like Clark. Salt of the earth Kansas boy.”
”Ah, but can he keep up with you as well as Superman does? Last I heard, it wasn’t the farm boy who was catching you when you got thrown off that building by Amazo.”
“Ha. Ha.” Would people ever let that go? Damn Jimmy and his impeccable timing and stupid award-winning picture. “He keeps up with me just fine. He’ll even keep you on your toes, Dad.” Lois glared at the image of Superman. He needed to be brought down a peg. Clark had no pegs to get taken down. He was goofy and clumsy and wore coke-bottle glasses, for christsake. Let Superman see the world through coke-bottle glasses for once. “I like him. Lucy likes him. Odds are the last Lane standing will like him too.”
”Well, we’ll just see about that tonight. Marino’s at 7?”
“Yessir.” Lois blinked at the picture she had just doodled on. “Don’t be late. No uniform either,” she said mechanically.
”Yes, ma’am. Do good work, kid.”
“Always,” she answered automatically, ending the call. The pen in her had was trembling.
“Hey Lois!” The familiar cheerful call tore her gaze away from the image. Clark was making his way to their desks, weaving and dodging coworkers, mumbling apologies along the way.
She glanced down to the paper in front of her, and looked back up. “Hey, Clark. Looks like you’re feeling better,” she said nonchalantly, flipping the paper upside down.