Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Clark leaned against the counter, drying his hands on a dish towel. “So, uh… Ma and Pa are coming into town this weekend.” He tried for casual, but Lois knew him too well. He was excited, “I thought maybe you’d like to have dinner with them. Just us.”

Lois glanced up, already wary. “This weekend?”

“Yeah. Friday night.” His smile was all giddy. “I’ll cook.”

“I can’t.” She sat up, running a hand through her hair. “Lucy and the General are in town this week. I can’t dodge them forever. My dad already made it clear he expects to see me.”

Clark hesitated, then said the thing Lois had already braced for: “So why not combine them? Everyone together. One dinner.”

Lois let out a sharp laugh. “No. Absolutely not.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Your parents are kind, sweet people. I am not subjecting them or you to the General.”

“Lo…” He crossed the room and sat beside her, voice softening. “It’ll be fine. My parents will love meeting your family. And your family should get to know me, too.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Lucy is one thing. She’s harmless. But the General? Clark, that is a whole other can of worms. He doesn’t like people. He doesn’t like me dating. And he definitely doesn’t like Superman. His job is his entire personality.”

Clark tilted his head, brow creasing in thought. “Maybe he doesn’t like Superman,” he said softly, “but maybe he’ll like Clark Kent once he gets to know him.”

Lois stared at him, mouth falling open. “You can’t be serious. You think the General’s going to warm up to your simple Midwestern charms? Fat chance.”

“It’s worth trying, isn’t it? Lo, please. It would mean a lot. For Ma and Pa, too. They’d love to see you again.” 

Lois sank back into the couch cushions, trying to resist. But Clark leaned closer, eyes wide and soft, that unmistakable puppy-dog look she couldn’t say no to. 

She groaned, rubbing her temples. “Fine, Smallville. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Clark grinned, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her head. “Thanks, Lo. I promise it’ll be great. I’m gonna go call Ma and Pa and let them know.”

Friday night came faster than Lois would’ve liked. She’d been pacing the apartment all afternoon, trying not to imagine the inevitable crash-and-burn. Clark, meanwhile, was in the kitchen, humming as he stirred something fragrant on the stove, far too relaxed for a man about to host a nuclear-level dinner.

At six sharp, there was a knock on the door. Clark lit up instantly.

“Ma, Pa!” he said, swinging it open. Martha Kent bustled in first, cradling a pie tin wrapped in a neat, checkered towel. Jonathan followed, smiling widely beneath his worn cap.

“Lois,” Jonathan said warmly, offering a hug. “Good to see you again.”

“You too, Jonathan,” she said, the word slipping out easier than expected.

Clark beamed, ushering them toward the kitchen. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“Nonsense,” Martha said, setting the tin on the counter. “We brought apple pie. Can’t have supper without dessert.”

Jonathan squeezed her shoulder. “And Clark’s been braggin’ on you again. Told us all about that Pull-it-zer prize you won.”

Lois blinked, then laughed. “Pulitzer.”

“Right, that one,” Jonathan said, not the least embarrassed. “Still mighty impressive.”

Martha added, her voice soft with that Kansas drawl, “He sends us your articles, you know. You’re really talented, honey. We’re proud to know you.”

Jonathan nodded, giving her a warm smile. “Yeah, you’ve done some mighty fine work, Lois. Keep at it.”

She glanced between them, taking in their genuine kindness and the easy way they spoke. For a moment, all the stress, all the worry about the upcoming dinner, melted away. She was just… thankful. Grateful that Clark’s parents were not only good people, but truly caring, and that they accepted her in such a simple, heartfelt way.

Martha and Jonathan settled into the living room while Lois poured drinks for everyone, the conversation slipping into an easy, comforting rhythm.

Then came the loud knock. At exactly 6:30. Military punctuality. Lois froze, her wine glass suspended halfway to her mouth.

Clark glanced at her. “Want me to get it?”

Lois set the glass down with a decisive clink. “No. If I don’t rip off the band-aid first, he’ll start barking.” She straightened, then caught Clark’s hand before he could move to follow.

“Listen to me,” she said, low and sharp, like they were strategizing for battle. “My dad? He’s not like you. He’s not warm, he’s not kind, and he doesn’t give anyone the benefit of the doubt. No matter what you do, it won’t be enough for him.”

Clark’s brow furrowed, but his thumb brushed over her knuckles, steady as ever.  Clark reached into his pocket, pulling out his glasses, and smiled at her as he put them on.

“And if—when he starts with the digs?” Lois continued, eyes narrowing. “Don’t fall for it. I may have pushed your buttons with the Superman jabs, but the General is worse. Don’t take the bait, Smallville. Got it?”

Clark gave her a soft, almost sheepish smile. “Got it.”

Another knock, sharper this time. Lois groaned, muttering, “Here we go,” and yanked the door open.

Lucy swooped in first, grinning ear to ear. “Lo!” She pulled her sister into a hug that nearly knocked the wind out of her. “Wow, it smells amazing in here. So obviously you didn’t cook.”

Lois let out a snort and hugged her sister back. Clark then appeared at Lois’s shoulder, polite as ever. “Actually, I did. And my Ma brought dessert.”

Lucy’s eyes lit up. “Okay, why didn’t you invite us over sooner? And, hi, I’m Lucy. You must be the boyfriend.”

Clark smiled warmly, holding out his hand. “Clark Kent. It’s great to meet you finally.”

Behind her, General Sam Lane filled the doorway like a storm cloud in uniform. Cold eyes, rigid jaw, posture sharp enough to cut glass. He nodded once, curtly, and Lois stepped back reluctantly to let him in.

"Lois." 

“Dad,” she said tightly. “This is Clark. Clark Kent. Clark, this is my father, General Sam Lane.”

The General’s gaze flicked up and down Clark in a single sweep, unimpressed. “Really?” he said, tone dry.

Clark extended a hand and smiled. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

Sam just grunted and already moved past him. Lois rolled her eyes as Clark’s parents came forward, then their voices warmed as they introduced themselves.

“Ma, Pa, this is Lucy Lane, Lois’ sister, and her father, General Lane.”

Martha offered her hand with a kind smile. “It’s really nice to meet you both.”

Lucy returned both handshakes easily. “Pleasure. And seriously, is that apple pie? You’re speaking my language, if it is!”

Sam gave them both the bare minimum of politeness, then folded his arms, surveying the apartment like it was a war-torn battlefield.

Lois gritted her teeth. Be normal, Dad.

Everyone settled into the living room, the smell of Clark’s cooking still trying its best to fill the silence. Clark moved between the kitchen and the coffee table, setting out dishes like it was just any other night, while Lois sat taut on the edge of the couch, watching her father’s every move. 

Martha, bless her heart, tried to bridge the gap. She leaned forward, smiling, and said, “You must be very proud of Lois, General. All her hard work, those articles she writes.”

The General didn’t even pause. He grunted, noncommittal. “She does her job.”

It was so cold, so dismissive, it made Lois’s jaw clench hard enough to ache.

She does her job? That was it? After everything she’d worked for? Everything she’d earned? Martha Kent was sitting right there, offering him a chance to be proud, and he brushed it off like she was some rookie stringer?

Lois forced a smile that was sharp enough to cut glass. “Gee, thanks, Dad. Don’t get too emotional, we wouldn’t want to break your poker face.”

Clark squeezed Lois’s hand, as if to say: Breathe. I’ve got you.

Jonathan spoke up. “Now that everyone is here,” he said, cheerful as ever. “What do y’all say we sit down proper?”

Lois exhaled through her nose, sharp, but let herself be guided to the table. This was gonna be a long night.

Dinner began quietly, Clark trying to keep things light as he passed around plates of roasted chicken and vegetables. Lois kept a tight grip on her fork, every nerve coiled for the next jab from her father.

And, of course, it came.

“So,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Clark. Reporting. Not exactly steady work, is it?”

“I work with Lois at the Daily Planet, sir. It’s challenging, yes, but fulfilling.” Clark replied politely 

“I have the same job. I do just fine.” Lois added, voice dripping with sarcasm

Sam ignored her. “Interesting, considering you send half your paycheck back to Kansas.”

Clark froze mid-bite. He looked at Lois, then at Sam, and the question hit like a grenade. How could he possibly know that? Lois instantly yelled-

“YOU RAN A BACKGROUND CHECK ON HIM?!?”

Clark opened his mouth to add something, but Martha and Jonathan were already speaking over him.

“Yes,” Martha said gently. “Clark sends us money to help out at the farm. He doesn’t have to; we never asked him to. But we’re grateful. Keeps the farm running.”

Jonathan nodded firmly. “It means the world to us.”

Lucy decided to cut in after and change the subject, “You guys run a farm, that sounds like a lot of work? What’s it like?”

Martha’s eyes lit up, and Jonathan leaned in, happily detailing the seasonal chores, the cows that had gotten loose last week, and the crazy windstorm that had nearly flattened the barn. Lois relaxed slightly, smiling despite herself. Lucy had Clark animatedly talking about planes, their fascination with aviation sparking a lively exchange.

Things seemed calmer until Sam’s gaze fell on a framed Daily Planet article hanging on the wall. “So you’re a big Superman fan now, Lois?” he asked, tone dry.

Lois stiffened. “I’m just doing my job, Dad. I'm not the only person who writes about Superman either." 

Martha chimed in, trying to steer it kindly. “I think Clark and Lois write some great Superman stories!"

Sam scoffed. “Well, of course. Simple folk like you might be impressed by a man in a cape, but it’s silly. Lois could be reporting on the brave men and women who give their lives for this country instead of wasting her talent.”

Lois froze. Did he just—? 

Clark’s jaw clenched immediately, and he spoke up. “Sir, Lois’s work is not silly. I understand you may have some contempt for me dating your daughter, but please don’t speak to my mother that way.” 

Lois’s eyes flashed. “Yeah. Don’t talk to her that way.”

To everyone’s surprise, Lucy chimed in as well. “They have a point, Daddy. That was pretty rude.”

Sam glanced around the table, realizing he was outnumbered. Before he could mutter an apology, Martha reached over, placing a gentle hand on Lois’s arm. “Oh, honey, it’s all right. Your stories keep life plenty exciting.”

Jonathan cleared his throat, trying to smooth things over. “And you must be very busy, General, with the Army and all." 

“Busy, yes. Real hard work.” Sam replied curtly 

“So because you serve your country, you're considered a hard worker, and anyone who doesn’t wear the same uniform as you doesn’t measure up. That about right?”

Sam’s jaw tightened. “Don't twist my words, Lois. I just work in a way that really matters, protecting this country every day. That’s what’s important. Not like capes swooping in to save the day when it’s convenient." 

Clark opened his mouth, and Lois shot him a sharp look that said, “Clark, don’t take the bait.”

But he couldn’t stay quiet. “Superman has saved Metropolis countless times, and I’ve gotten to personally interview him. He genuinely wants to help people every single time. And the only people who’ve ever been caught in the crossfire were the ones trying to hurt innocent people.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Ah, of course. Always the moral high ground. And all you do is write fluff pieces about him, isn’t that right? Superman "rescues" people, and you… You turn it into a story for the papers.”

Lois’s eyes narrowed, irritation flaring. “Why are you so bothered by people who… like Superman? Seriously.”

Sam’s voice sharpened, dripping with condescension. “You make it all sound so easy. People cheer, the city breathes a little easier, and you get your story. Meanwhile, someone actually has to shoulder responsibility, make the hard calls, day in, day out. That’s real sacrifice.”

Lois let out a bitter, sharp laugh. “Oh, please. You think you’ve cornered the market on sacrifice? You think Superman hasn’t bled for people? That Clark—" She cut herself off, shaking her head "—that I haven’t put myself on the line every damn day to tell the truth? Do you even know what that means? You think it’s easy? You think it’s safe?”

“It’s… different! You live in your stories. You don’t deal with the consequences like I do. You don’t enforce the law or put your life on the line for this country.”

“Oh, really? And what about all the nuclear weapons your military builds? The wars you’ve started, the countries you’ve bombed? Lives ruined, people terrified, all in the name of ‘protection.' Are those the hard calls?"

Sam’s face reddened, his voice rising with irritation. “That’s enough, Lois! Don’t speak to me like that. I raised you better than this, your mother raised you better!”

The words landed like a blow. Lois froze, her chest tightening, then slowly shook her head. “No. No, you didn’t raise me. I raised myself. I raised Lucy. While you were off fighting your wars and patting yourself on the back for it, I was the one making sure we got by. The only time you raised us was to ship us off to another base.”

Sam got angry, his hand pressing flat to the table. “What’s gotten into you? Berating your government, disrespecting my work, shacking up with some… farm boy—” His glare cut to Clark. “You’ve become such a disappointment.”

That was it. Lois shot up from her chair, fury blazing in her eyes.

“A disappointment?” Her voice shook, but only from sheer force. “You sit here insulting me, insulting my boyfriend, his parents, and somehow I’m the problem? You want perspective? Here it is: you don’t get to walk in here and tear me down in front of the people I love just because I didn’t go down the path you wanted to. If you can’t manage basic respect, you can get out. Now.”

Sam blinked, stunned. “What?”

“You heard me,” Lois snapped, pointing toward the door. “Get. Out.”

Sam’s chair scraped hard against the floor as he stood, his glare fixed on Lois. “Fine. You want me gone? I’m gone. Come on, Lucy.”

Lucy blinked, caught mid-sip of her wine. “What? No, I-” She glanced at the pie sitting untouched on the counter. “I was actually really looking forward to some pie!”

“Lucy,” Sam barked, low and commanding.

Lucy crossed her arms, frowning. “Oh, come on. Why do you two always have to argue before we have dessert? Every time!”

Sam’s expression darkened, but before he could snap again, Martha’s gentle voice cut in. “Don’t you worry, honey,” she said warmly, already rising from her chair. “I’ll cut you a slice to take with you.”

Sam muttered something under his breath and turned toward the door, stiff and storming. Lucy trailed after him reluctantly, clutching the little plate Martha pressed into her hands. Lois looked around awkwardly and, embarrassed, dismissed herself for some air.

Jonathan cleared his throat, the corners of his mouth tugging wryly. “Well,” he said, half under his breath, “I guess we won’t be seeing him for Thanksgiving… should we cut the rest of the pie?”

Martha swatted his arm, giving him a look. “Jonathan Kent, really.”

Clark let out a small laugh, shaking his head. The tension in the room eased just a little.

Martha glanced toward the balcony doors and then at Clark. “Is Lois all right?”

“She just needs a minute,” Clark said gently. “I’ll go check on her.”

Martha touched his arm before turning toward the kitchen. “I’ll cut her a slice of pie. It will be waiting for her when she gets inside."

Lois lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, letting the tension drain from her shoulders. She hadn’t smoked in months, ever since she started dating Clark; she’d quit, determined to kick a habit she’d long relied on. But in a moment like this, she knew she needed one from her emergency stash. Just this once.

Clark appeared in the doorway, a gentle smile on his face. “Mind if I join you?”

Lois shook her head, offering a small, tired grin. “Don’t make me feel guilty for needing this, Smallville.”

“It’s okay, Lo. It’s been a long night. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Clark joined her anyway, his hands resting on the railing beside hers. He didn’t flinch at the smoke. “And I don’t hate it. I hate that you’re hurting.”

Lois swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in her eyes. “He made me feel like I was sixteen again. Small. Wrong. Like nothing I’ve done matters. God, he just knows how to cut me down, and tonight he didn’t even try to hide it.”

Clark turned, his eyes steady on her. “Lois, you are stronger than he’ll ever give you credit for. What you do it’s every bit as important as what he does. More, some days. He might wear the stars on his shoulders, but you… You tell the truth. You hold people accountable. That matters. That's one of the things I love most about you." 

Her hands shook as she tried to take another drag from her cigarette, the end trembling before her lips. The ember flared unevenly, and she fumbled with it, exhaling smoke that caught in her throat.

Clark gently reached out and steadied her hand. Without a word, he gently took the cigarette from her hand, crushing it out against the railing. He spoke again, “Remember the Rift back in May? When Luthor tried to destroy me, destroy my reputation, my name? Who cleared my name and saved my life?” He tilted his head, waiting until she met his gaze. “You did, Lois. You. You’re the reason I’m standing here right now.”

Her eyes burned, but she managed a shaky laugh. “You’re really bad at letting me wallow, you know that?”

He smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her hair. “Not when it comes to you. You’ll never be small, Lois. Not to me.”

Lois blinked, then leaned up impulsively and kissed him, forgetting for a moment about the bitter taste of smoke on her lips. The second she pulled back, she cursed herself silently, of all the times to taste like an ashtray. But Clark only smiled, brushing his thumb along her cheek as if he hadn’t noticed.

She managed a shaky smile. “Tell me there’s still dessert inside?”

Clark’s eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Ma told me to tell you she cut you a slice.”

Lois lingered against Clark for another moment before finally drawing in a steadying breath. With his hand at the small of her back, she slipped inside the apartment. Martha looked up from the table where she was plating pie, Jonathan close by with a fork already in hand. Their easy smiles made Lois’s throat tighten all over again.

“I…” She stopped, swallowed, then tried again. “I just want to say I’m sorry. To both of you. For unloading all that drama in front of you. I knew it was a risk inviting him here, but… well, I guess I hoped for better."

Martha crossed the room to Lois, taking her hands. “Oh, honey, don’t you apologize. Families are messy. We’re just happy to see you.” She squeezed Lois’s hands. “You’re sharp as a tack, and from the way Clark brags, I’d say you give everyone at that paper a run for their money.”

Lois huffed a small, flustered laugh, trying not to get misty-eyed. “He… really says that?”

“More than once,” Jonathan put in with a grin.

Martha clapped her hands suddenly. “Oh! Before I forget. I’ve got something for you.” She turned to Jonathan. “Jon, it’s in my bag. Would you grab it?”

Lois blinked, surprised. “Martha, you didn’t have to bring me anything.”

“Fooey,” Martha said, waving her off. “I couldn’t just show up empty-handed.”

Clark chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Ma, you brought a pie.”

Martha shot him a look, but her smile was fond as Jonathan handed her a small, neatly wrapped bundle. She passed it to Lois, who peeled back the paper to find a soft knit scarf in a rich, deep purple.

“I know it gets cold here in Metropolis,” Martha said, a little shy now. “And Clark mentioned you like purple.”

Lois swallowed hard, the lump in her throat impossible to ignore. She wrapped the scarf around her neck immediately, fingers brushing over the careful stitches. “Martha, this is… It’s beautiful.”

Then she did something she hadn’t planned, hadn’t even thought through; she pulled Martha into a tight hug. Martha’s arms closed around her without hesitation, like she’d been waiting to do that all along.

Lois held on tight, whispering, “Thank you.”

Jonathan cleared his throat, a grin tugging at his mouth. “You kids sure made dinner interesting. We can’t wait to see you for the holidays.”

Clark’s eyes lit up as he turned to Lois. “I can't wait until you try Ma’s famous Thanksgiving turkey! It’s incredible! And she makes it with a special super seasoning  only reserved it that time of year. And the pies, Lo! The pies!”

Martha shook her head, laughing softly. “I might have to make two of everything this year with the way this one eats.”

Lois laughed, and Martha reached out and took her hand. “Come on, honey. Let’s have some pie before it gets cold.” Lois followed her back to the table, smiling at Clark as he grinned back. For the first time all night, everything felt easy, warm, and safe. Her family might have sucked, but she had the Kents. That was more than anything she could’ve ever hoped for.

Chapter Text

Clark slowed the car as they turned onto the long gravel drive leading to the Kent farmhouse. The twilight sky glowed faint pink over the fields, the air crisp enough for Lois to tuck her chin deeper into the purple scarf Martha had knitted her.

She crossed her arms. “I still can’t believe you made me sit through twenty-one hours in a car when we could’ve been there in twelve minutes. Tops. Nine if you really leaned into the tailwinds.”

Clark smiled, soft and annoyingly sentimental. “It’s Thanksgiving. We should arrive like normal people.”

“Normal people can't be there and back faster than a speeding bullet.” She teased

Clark squinted at her, resigned. “Okay… guilty....."He bit back a smile. “I like road trips with you. Gives us time to talk. See the simple parts of the world.”

Lois made a grumbling noise that only half hid her affection. “Fine. But next holiday, I’m picking the transportation method, and I’m choosing the express flight.”

“Noted,” Clark said. “I’ll pack lighter.”

Before she could tease him again, the front screen door swung open. Warm orange light spilled onto the porch.

“Clark! Lois!” Martha called out, waving happily. “You made it.”

Jonathan followed her, wearing a slightly crooked sweater and his usual grin. “We kept looking up for y'all."

Lois snorted. “He insisted on driving.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Jonathan said with a wink.

As Lois stepped out of the car, the cold nipped at her cheeks. Martha came straight over, smiling as she touched the scarf lightly.

“It looks beautiful on you, honey,” she said. “I’m so glad it fits.”

“I love it,” Lois said honestly. “Really.”

“Well, good,” Martha replied, her eyes brightening. “Because I made these to go with it.”

She pulled a small wrapped bundle from her coat pocket and placed it into Lois’s hands. Inside were soft purple mittens and a matching hat, perfectly knitted.

Lois froze. “You made a whole set?”

Martha suddenly looked bashful. “I thought you might need them when the wind picks up. Kansas can be fierce.”

Lois surprised herself with how quickly she moved in for a hug. Martha let out a little breath and hugged her tightly in return.

Jonathan cleared his throat loudly. “Better put them on before your fingers freeze off.”

Lois laughed and tugged them on. They fit perfectly.

The moment they walked inside, Lois was enveloped by warmth and the most incredible smell she had ever encountered on a holiday. Turkey. Sage. Cinnamon. Something sweet she couldn’t name. She stopped just past the doorway, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“You okay?” Clark asked, brushing his hand gently along her back.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I just… wow.”

Martha shooed them toward the living room. “Dinner will be ready soon. Clark, show her the tree!”

Clark’s eyes lit up. “Great, Ma, you put it up early!”

“It isn’t fully decorated yet. I was waiting for you kids to get here!” Martha called.

Jonathan leaned in to Lois and muttered, “She got impatient.”

“I heard that, Jonathan!” Martha yelled back.

Lois burst out laughing as Clark guided her to the living room. There was a half-decorated Christmas tree in the corner, and the only thing sitting on the branches was a tiny bit of multicolored tinsel.

“You guys really do go all in,” Lois said, settling beside him.

Clark wrapped an arm loosely around her waist. “Yeah, and this year we finally get to put the rest of it up with you.” His grin softened as he looked at the half-lit tree. “I’ve wanted that since… well, since the moment you first pretended you didn’t like Christmas.”

Lois raised a brow. “Pretended?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Clark said, nodding. “You get this sparkle in your eyes when you see lights. You think I don’t notice, but I do.” He nudged her gently.  Lois’s heart squeezed. She leaned into him until Martha called them for dinner.

At the table, everything smelled impossible. Jonathan pretended to groan when Martha insisted on sharing what they were thankful for. Clark spoke earnestly about family and love, clearly trying not to look at Lois too much. Lois squeezed his knee when he got sappy.

Then it was Lois’s turn.

She looked around the table and felt suddenly, inexplicably shy. “I’m thankful you invited me,” she said, voice softer than she intended. “And for letting me be here. This is… It’s nice. I’m... I'm not great at this.”

Martha reached for her hand and gave it a warm squeeze. “Honey, that was perfect.”

Lois swallowed hard.

Martha beamed. “Now let’s eat before Clark starts licking the plates.”

“Ma!”

Lois burst out laughing again.

Dinner continued in a flurry of laughter and easy conversation. Lois had never eaten turkey this good. Clark had seconds and thirds, Martha swatted at him more than once, and Jonathan pretended to keep a tally on a napkin.

Halfway through the meal, Lois took it all in, and something shifted inside her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t at the Kent table. She was ten years old, sitting alone with a tray of lukewarm base food while her father worked late, and Lucy was too young to understand. She remembered thinking, Thanksgiving is just another day.

Then the memory faded, and she was back in the Kent kitchen surrounded by warmth and people who wanted her there.

This is what it feels like to belong.

Clark's large hand covered her shoulder. “Lo? Honey? You okay?”

She turned to him. Her eyes were bright. Her voice is small. “Yeah. I'm just thinking that this is my first real Thanksgiving. And it's great."

Clark didn’t hesitate. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. ”And we're glad you're with us."

She blinked fast and smiled, trying not to tear up and let herself take another bite of Martha's delicious stuffing.

Later, dessert became its own comedy show. Jonathan carried out an apple pie and a pecan pie like they were sacred relics.

“Choose your fighter,” he announced.

Clark immediately took a slice of each.

“Clark,” Lois said with mock sternness, “that is not choosing.”

Martha flicked a napkin at him. “Save some for the rest of us!”

“I’m pacing myself,” Clark insisted.

“You’re thirty,” Lois reminded him.

“He’s been growing for thirty years,” Jonathan added.

Lois leaned over and kissed Clark’s cheek. “Don’t worry. I like a man with an appetite.”

Clark turned red all the way to his ears.

After dinner, they ended up on the porch seat, wrapped in a thick blanket. The stars were bright in the clear Kansas sky.

“Thank you,” Lois murmured, curled against him.

“For what?” he whispered into her hair.

“For today. For bringing me here. For sharing your family. For giving me one.”

Clark kissed her temple gently. “Lois, you are part of this family. Always. If anything, I'm the lucky one to have you here with me.”

She tilted up and kissed him, slow and warm. When they parted, she sighed contentedly against his chest.

“Think your mom will let me put the star on the tree tomorrow?” Lois asked.

Clark laughed softly. “She already set it aside for you, baby.”

Lois didn’t try to hide her smile. Not tonight. Not here.

Lois sat perched sideways in Clark’s lap at the Kent kitchen table, half a pecan pie between them, crumbs on the wood, and Clark trying very hard to look innocent even though he was absolutely guilty. Not five minutes earlier, she’d caught him standing in the glow of the open fridge, fork in hand, committing pastry crimes with the intensity of a jewel thief.

And Lois couldn’t stop laughing about it.

She wiped her eyes, breath catching each time she tried to speak. “I swear… I swear I’m never going to get over this.”

Clark blinked at her with a wounded, boyish expression. “I don’t know why you’re laughing. I’m solving a problem.”

“Yeah?” She snorted. “What problem?”

“The leftovers were lonely.”

Lois broke again, tipping forward with laughter. She had known Clark Kent as the polite, almost painfully considerate, "I'm just from Kansas" now Metropolis boy scout who held doors for strangers and apologized when other people bumped into him. But the Clark Kent she was seeing tonight — this Clark was something new.

A little chaotic.
A little sneaky.
A little farm boy who thought “superhearing the pie calling him” was a legitimate legal defense.

She curled closer, grinning against his shoulder. “Oh my god. You have no idea how funny this is. You’re always so polite in Metropolis. Mr. Yes Ma’am, No Sir, Let Me Help You Carry Those Fifty-Six Grocery Bags…”

Clark puffed up a little. “Good manners are important.”

“But this version of you?” She poked his chest. “Farm Clark is a menace.”

His mouth fell open. “A menace?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded seriously. “Farm Clark bends oven handles without meaning to. Farm Clark sneezes tinsel across the living room. Farm Clark tries to steal pie like he’s cracking a safe.”

Clark bit his lip to keep from laughing, eyes warm. “It’s… holiday tradition.”

“Your holiday tradition is pastry theft?”

He shrugged, earnest in the most ridiculous way. “The house gets quiet. The pie is on the counter. And I have super senses. It’s basically destiny.”

Lois let out a snort so loud she had to cover her mouth. She leaned back and studied him, rumpled pajamas, hair sticking up, cheeks pink from embarrassment and laughter. And suddenly, her chest softened.

Because this wasn’t just mischief.

This was Kent Thanksgiving.

This was warmth and noise and chaos.
Jonathan pretended he wasn’t keeping track of Clark’s five helpings.
Martha was yelling from three rooms away like it was nothing.
Clark bends a pan and politely acts shocked about it.
A half-decorated tree sitting in the corner because Martha had waited for “her kids” to arrive.

It wasn’t messy.
Well, okay, the tinsel was messy.
But the rest… the rest was beautiful.

And Lois realized she loved seeing Clark like this — relaxed, playful, unguarded. The version of himself he saved for home. For family. For her.

She kissed his cheek lightly. “I love this side of you.”

Clark blinked, startled by the softness in her voice. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She pulled him closer by the collar of his flannel. “Mischievous Clark. Farm boy Clark. Midnight snack, Clark.” Her lips brushed his. “He’s kind of adorable.”

Clark’s smile went warm and a little shy. He tucked her securely against him. “I’m glad you get to see him.”

Lois fed him another bite of pie, then stole one for herself. “I’m glad I caught you.”

“I was stealthy,” Clark muttered.

“You dropped a fork, Smallville.”

He groaned. “I thought you were asleep.”

Lois kissed him again, slow and sweet. “And miss this? Not a chance.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder as he wrapped both arms around her, pie tin forgotten on the table. Outside, the Kansas night was quiet, but inside, it felt warm enough to melt snow.

This was Thanksgiving chaos, Kent-style.
And it was perfect.
Because it was Clark being Clark — her Clark — in the one place he felt safe enough to be a little ridiculous.

And Lois loved every second of it.

Lois woke earlier than she ever intended to on a holiday weekend, blinking blearily at the warm dent in the mattress where Clark had been. (He'd insisted he'd sleep on the floor while she took his mattress, and she insisted she'd just lie on top of him as her pillow, so that was a nice compromise). The blankets were still faintly warm, but the man himself was gone. But it was the crack of dawn. Of course, he was already awake.

Lois groaned, shoved her hair into a messy bun, tugged on her Clark's robe over her plaid pajama pants, and headed down the hall. She was expecting to find him in the kitchen. Instead, she found Martha humming by the stove, cracking eggs with practiced ease. A plate of warm biscuits was already covered with a towel, steam curling from beneath it.

“Morning, honey,” Martha said without turning. “Coffee’s on the counter.”

Lois blinked. “I… good morning. You’re… up early.”

“You’re up early,” Martha corrected, grinning at her over her shoulder. “Clark told me you’re not much of a morning person.”

“I am when I’m not working,” Lois muttered, grabbing the mug, "But there's just something about Kansas."

Martha laughed gently, and Lois shuffled over to the pot like it was a life raft. Once she’d taken a long, glorious sip, she noticed movement out the window.

Clark was already out in the yard.

Of course, he was.

He was wearing a soft T-shirt despite the cold, sleeves hugging his ridiculous biceps, and he was at the fence line fixing a post like the most wholesome sunrise painting ever created. The sunlight hit him just right, turning him into an unreasonably picturesque farm manual-labor calendar model.

Lois blinked. Then blinked again.

Martha followed her gaze and smiled. “Fence gave a little in the wind last night. He said he’d tighten it before breakfast.”

Lois took a long sip of coffee. “Yeah. That tracks.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m not,” Lois said quickly. A beat. “I mean, of course, he’s out there fixing things. He can’t help himself. The man can’t see a loose screw or a crooked nail without making it his life’s mission.”

Martha laughed softly. “He gets that from Jonathan.”

“I believe that,” Lois murmured, sipping her coffee. "Anything I can help you with?"

“Oh no, honey, you just relax. Don’t worry,” Martha said, waving a gentle hand toward the table. “You’re a guest.”

“I know,” Lois said, shifting her mug between her hands, “but I want to.”

Martha paused, soft surprise flickering across her face, not offended, just touched. She lowered the spatula slightly, turning toward Lois with that warm Kent sincerity that always caught Lois off guard.

“Well,” Martha said slowly, “if you want to… then that’s different.”

Lois shrugged, staring into her coffee like it might bail her out. “I just… it feels weird sitting around doing nothing while you cook everything. Especially after you gave us a whole Thanksgiving feast last night.”

Martha let out a small, fond laugh. “Sweetheart, that was barely half the feast. You haven’t met real Kent cooking yet.”

Lois grinned. “I’m mentally preparing.”

“You’ll need to.” Martha winked at her. Then, gently, “Go ahead and set the table, if you’d like. I’d appreciate it.”

Lois brightened more than she meant to. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that.”

She grabbed plates from the cabinet, her pajama pants swishing softly as she moved. Lois was placing the last fork when the back door creaked. A gust of cold air swept in, followed by the unmistakable sound of Clark trying (and failing) to shut the door quietly.

He stepped inside, cheeks pink from the chill, hair delightfully wind-mussed, and the second his eyes landed on Lois, he lit up like someone flipped a switch.

“Mornin’,” he said, voice soft and warm in a way he only seemed to use around her.

Lois lifted her mug and smirked. “Fix the entire farm already?”

“Not the entire farm,” Clark corrected, pulling off his boots. “Just the fence post.”

“He can’t let anything rest,” Martha said lovingly from the stove.

Clark shrugged. “It was leaning.”

Lois shook her head, amused. “Of course it was.”

He walked over to her, still brushing bits of hay or wood dust or general Kansas from his pajama pants. When he reached her side, he didn’t even hesitate; he leaned down and pressed a soft, absent-minded kiss to the top of her head. Lois didn't let him get away with that, though, and pulled him in for a soft peck.

Clark pulled back with a bright grin. “You set the table?”

Lois recovered with a shrug. “Figured I should contribute before your mom decides I’m useless.”

“Oh, please,” Martha said, waving her dish towel. “You’re a wonderful company.”

Clark beamed, wrapping an arm lightly around Lois’s shoulders in a way that made her robe and pajamas suddenly feel entirely insufficient against the warmth of his body.

“Breakfast smells amazing,” he said, inhaling dramatically. “Biscuits? Eggs? Mom, I love you.”

“You say that every morning I make biscuits,” Martha teased.

“And I’ll mean it every time,” he replied earnestly.

Lois rolled her eyes affectionately. “This is what I’m dealing with. Pure farm-boy enthusiasm.”

Clark grinned wider. “Hey, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

Lois nudged him. “You said that about dinner last night.”

“That was also true.”

They’d barely gotten halfway through their biscuits when the side door opened again — this time with a heavier thump and a muttered, “Well, that’s heavier than I remember.”

Jonathan shuffled inside carrying a large plastic tub of Christmas decorations stacked on top of a second one, both so full that the lids were bulging. A stray string of tinsel had looped itself around his shoulder like festive battlefield gear.

“Morning, kids,” he said cheerfully. “Don’t mind me. Just getting things ready for the tree later.”

Clark was on his feet instantly. “Pa! You should’ve called me! I could’ve grabbed those.”

Jonathan grinned, unbothered. “Son, I’ve been hauling these tubs since before you were tall enough to see over the top of ‘em.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to strain your back,” Clark said, already moving to relieve him of the top container. “I could’ve gotten the whole storage shed in one go.”

Lois snorted into her coffee. “Clark, you could get the county in one go.”

Martha arched a brow. “And yet he didn’t get this tub, did he?”

Jonathan chuckled and let Clark take the bins from his arms, shaking out his shoulders. “We’ll decorate after breakfast. No rush. Figured we’d at least get the ornaments out so they can warm up. The shed was cold last night.”

Lois watched Clark inspect the bins like they might have personally offended him. “I mean it, Pa. Just tell me when you need something.”

Jonathan patted his son on the shoulder. “You’ll get your turn. Don’t you worry. I know you’re itching to put that tree together.”

Clark opened his mouth to deny it. Then closed it. Then smiled sheepishly.

Lois grinned. “He’s been excited since we walked through the door yesterday.”

“That so?” Jonathan asked.

“Oh yeah,” Lois said, sipping her coffee. “Man practically sprinted to see the tree last night.”

Clark groaned good-naturedly. “Lois.”

Martha placed a warm hand on Clark’s back as she passed him. “Sweetheart, we want you to help us decorate. You make the place feel festive.”

Jonathan added, “And you get the star on the top without me needing a step stool, so that’s a perk.”

Clark laughed quietly, a little shy under all the attention, then glanced at Lois, eyes soft with that familiar warmth he never quite managed to hide around her.

Jonathan waved toward the decorations. “We’ll tackle this after we eat. Plenty of time.”

Clark nodded. “Yeah. Sounds perfect.”

Jonathan pops open the first bin on the living room floor. Immediately, a tangle of lights and about seven feet of rogue tinsel spring out like an ambush.

Lois jumps back. “Is it alive?!”

Clark laughs and moves to untangle it — carefully — only for the entire knot to tighten in a way that absolutely defies physics.

Martha sighs fondly. “Every year.”

Jonathan scratches his chin. “Clark, son, maybe just… pull gently.”

Clark tugs slightly, and the whole knot comes apart in one perfect swoosh.

Lois stares. “Of course. Of course it listens to you.”

He shrugs, smug. “The lights and I have an understanding.”

Lois pulled a crooked little clay snowman out of the box of Clark’s childhood ornaments, holding it up for inspection.

“Oh wow… I see what you were going for,” she said, trying not to laugh. “A snowman… or a… marshmallow that got lost?”

Clark’s eyes went wide, indignation flashing across his face. “It was supposed to be a snowman!”

Lois raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. If by snowman you mean something that looks like it melted in the sun, sure.”

Clark groaned, putting a hand to his forehead. “I was five! Five! Give me some credit.”

Martha, watching from the kitchen with a gentle smile, walked over holding a small, delicate ornament — a tiny portrait of Clark as a scraggly-toothed kindergartener, wide-eyed and smiling awkwardly.

Clark’s eyes went wide. “Ma! Not that one!”

Lois gasped in mock horror, then squealed with delight. “Oh my gosh! Clark! Look at you! That grin! The teeth! I love it!”

Clark’s groan deepened.“You’re enjoying this way too much!”

Lois leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “I’m not just enjoying it… I’m loving it. You were ridiculously cute.”

Martha chuckled softly, holding up the leather-bound photo album. “If you two are ready, I can show you the rest of the childhood collection.”

Lois’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Yes! Please! I have to see the whole Clark Kent embarrassing baby pictures archive.”

Jonathan kneels to adjust the tree stand for the fourth time.

“It’s leaning,” he mutters.

“It’s fine, Pa,” Clark insists.

“No, it’s leaning.”

“It’s not—”

The tree tilts.

Lois winces. “…Okay, it’s leaning.”

Clark reaches out to stabilize it with one finger, feeling triumphant. “I’ve got it.”

Meanwhile, Martha holds up three tree toppers: a traditional star, a vintage angel, and a sparkly snowflake.

“You choose, Lois, honey,” she says. “I was saving the best for last just for you.”

Lois freezes.

Just for a second.

Her throat tightens — too emotional for this hour of the morning — but she hides it with a little shrug.

“Star,” she says softly. “That one.”

Martha beams and hands her the one she had chosen. “Perfect.”

Clark then glances at Lois with a soft smile.

“Ready?” he asks.

Lois frowns, a little confused. “Ready for wh—hey!”

Before she can finish her thought, Clark slips an arm around her waist and lifts her off the floor in one easy motion, holding her steady like she weighs nothing.

“Clark!” Lois hisses, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Warn a girl!”

But the irritation melts almost instantly. Her gasp turns into a bubbling, breathless laugh — surprised, warm, uncontrollable.

Clark grins up at her. “You’ve got this.”

Lois shakes her head, still laughing as she steadies herself. With both hands, she reaches out and carefully — almost reverently — places the star on the highest branch, adjusting it until it sits perfectly straight.

The lights catch the edges of it, shimmering gold through the pine needles. The whole tree seems to glow brighter.

Clark lowers her gently, his hands lingering for a heartbeat. With the final ornaments hung, Clark stands back to admire their work.

Lois bumps her shoulder into his. “Looks pretty great.”

He wraps an arm around her waist, smiling softly. “Yeah. It does.”

Martha steps forward and plugs in the lights.

The tree flickers…

Flickers…

Flickers…

Then fully blazes to life, warm and bright.

Lois’s breath catches. “Okay. Wow.”

Clark beams. “Told you my mom’s lights are invincible.”

Jonathan crosses his arms proudly. “Those bulbs are older than Clark.”

Lois stares. “How are they not a fire hazard?”

Jonathan shrugs. “We live on the edge.”

Before Lois can reply, the lights suddenly cut out — the entire living room plunging into dim morning gloom.

Martha sighs. “Generator did that yesterday, too.”

Clark straightens. “I’ll go check it.”

And then....

ZIP

 He’s gone in a gust of displaced air and a puff of tinsel fluttering off the tree. Not three seconds later — ZIP — Clark reappears in the same spot, bits of snow melting on his flannel sleeves.

“Loose wire,” he says, like he merely stepped outside and not across the yard at Mach speed.

The lights flick back on instantly, the tree glowing brighter than before.

Lois folds her arms, staring at him with an amused smirk. “Show-off.”

Clark gives her that soft, sweet, utterly unconvincing innocent look. “What? I fixed it.”

Lois leans in, lowering her voice. “Mm-hmm. And you definitely didn’t enjoy the dramatic exit.”

Clark’s ears go pink.

Jonathan pats his shoulder. “Good work, son.”

Martha adds, “Now keep your feet on the ground long enough to help me with the garland.”

Clark sighs, pretending it’s a terrible burden. “Yes, ma’am.”

Lois bites back a laugh — because of course the big, brave, superpowered hero would put out wildfires and stop meteors, but Martha Kent and her Christmas decorations?

That’s where he really knew better than to argue.

The day winds down slowly, the kind of slow that only happens on the farm, where time stretches out, warm and easy. Dinner is long finished, the dishes washed, the leftovers packed away. Jonathan has gone to bed first, mumbling something about “early chores,” and Martha followed soon after with a fond goodnight.

Now the house is hushed and dim, lit only by the soft glow of the Christmas tree in the corner.

Lois and Clark settle onto the couch, wrapped in one blanket, her head resting against his shoulder while he absentmindedly traces slow circles on her arm.

For a long while, neither of them talks.

They don’t need to.

Eventually, Lois tilts her head back and looks up at him. “You know, Smallville,” she murmurs. “I know it’s your home. But it’s starting to feel like home for me, too.”

Clark’s breath catches, just the smallest reaction, but she feels it. His fingers pause where they’ve been tracing slow circles on her arm, then tighten gently, pulling her a little closer.

“Lo,” he whispers, voice warm and full. “That means more than you know.”

Lois smiles into his shoulder. Before she can say anything else, he shifts, a spark of excitement lighting his eyes.

“There’s one more thing I want to show you,” he says.

She arches a brow. “At…” She glances at the clock. “Eleven-thirty at night?”

“Trust me,” Clark says, already rising from the couch. “One second.”

Before she can protest, he disappears down the hall in a blur. Lois blinks, then laughs when he reappears holding both of their coats.

“Wow,” she deadpans. “A real man of mystery.”

Clark grins and helps her into her coat, far too gently for a guy who can bench-press a tractor, then shrugs into his own. When he takes her hand, his palm is warm and steady.

He leads her out onto the porch, the cold Kansas air wrapping around them in a soft bite. The stars above the fields stretch out forever, a glittering, endless sky.

Lois’s breath fogs in the dark. “Okay,” she whispers. “What now?”

Clark steps behind her, sliding his arms around her waist.

“Hold on,” he murmurs.

They rise slowly above the fields, Lois curled instinctively into him, the farm shrinking below into shapes and shadows. The stars stretch wide and bright over them, clearer than they ever look from the ground.

Lois’ breath catches quietly. “It’s beautiful up here…”

Clark holds her a little closer, his voice low. “When I first started learning how to fly, I’d come here. Right above the farm. It was comforting. Safe.” He smiles slightly, eyes on the sky. “Like the stars were guiding me instead of… everything else I didn’t understand.”

Lois looks at him, not teasing now. Just soft. “Smallville…”

“I didn’t know much back then,” Clark continues, brushing his cheek against her temple. “But up here, it felt like I could breathe. Like maybe I wasn’t alone.”

She presses a hand to his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his coat. “You’re not alone anymore,” she says quietly.

Clark turns to her fully, his forehead touching hers, their bodies drifting in a slow, weightless sway above the fields. “I love you, Lois.”

Lois smiles, small and full. “I love you too,” she whispers.

He kisses her then, gentle at first, then deeper as she wraps her arms around his neck. They float like that, suspended in starlight and quiet Kansas air.

When they finally part, Lois brushes her thumb over his cheek.

“I can’t wait for Christmas here,” she murmurs.

Clark smiles, lifting her a little higher in the night sky. “Me neither.”