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By Carolus
Summary: Rewrite of episode 9.08, “Idol.” While Lois tries to make sense of the recurring sensual dreams that she has been having involving Clark, two well-meaning admirers inadvertently ruin the Blur’s reputation with their efforts, and Jor-El learns more about his son and Lana.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and sexual references.
Spoilers: Everything up to and including “Power,” serious spoilers for “Idol.”
Author Notes: This story is set in my Clana-friendly season nine, which ignores the events of “Requiem” in season eight and follows “Reign,” which contains links to previous stories in the series, “Synthesis,” “Frenzy,” “Surprise,” “Roulette,” “Vicious,” and “Genesis.” The Kryptonian TrueType font will be required to read certain symbols.
Disclaimer: Smallville doesn’t belong to me, unfortunately, but to Tollin/Robbins Productions, Millar Gough Ink, DC Comics, and Warner Brothers Television. I’m just having some fun here.
* * * * *
Lois Lane woke up in bed at Oliver Queen’s penthouse in Queen Tower with a naked male body spooned up behind her and an arm slung around her midsection. The male body in question felt decidedly larger and more muscular than she remembered Oliver being, an impression that was confirmed when she looked over her shoulder to see Clark Kent behind her.
Sitting up, Lois pulled the top sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself for modesty before turning to study Clark’s face. She frowned when he noticed that he didn’t look very peaceful for someone who had fallen asleep after a night of passion. In fact, even with his eyes closed in sleep, Clark’s features seemed intent, even calculating -- an expression totally out of place on the normally easygoing farm boy that she knew.
A bit disturbed, Lois got up from the bed, still clutching the sheet around her naked body as she winced slightly at all the new aches and pains in her body. God, she felt like she’d been ridden hard and put away wet.
Flushing slightly as she remembered how she’d gotten that way, Lois made her way to the bedroom door and walked out into the main area of Oliver’s penthouse, glancing at the various items of her and Clark’s clothing that were strewn along the way. Her gaze briefly landed on two items on the couch -- a long dark red coat and a black T-shirt decorated with a strange “Z”-like symbol composed of two rotated white L-shapes bordering a diagonal white slash with a knotlike figure in its center -- before she looked out the penthouse balcony’s glass doors to see a red sky with a crimson sun.
As she stood there, there was a whoosh of air behind her, and an instant later she heard Clark murmur, “You shouldn’t have wandered off,” as a hand landed on her shoulder and he roughly turned her to face him.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he said with a cold, confident smile that Lois didn’t normally associate with Clark Kent -- at least, not the Clark Kent she knew.
Glancing at the hand that Clark had on her shoulder, Lois caught a brief glimpse of a silver ring set with an odd, iridescent pinkish-white stone on his left ring finger as he said, “Now… shall we pick up where we left off last night?”
Suddenly all of Lois’ odd feelings and misgivings about the situation were replaced by an intense feeling of lust as she relinquished her grip on the sheet that she held wrapped around her.
“Yeah, why don’t we do that?” she said with a seductive smile as the sheet fell to the floor, leaving her naked as she stepped forward and embraced Clark.
Pulling Lois against him as she twined her arms around his neck, Clark took her mouth in a rough, bruising kiss, eliciting a moan from the brunette as his hands began to roam their way down her back…
Sitting at his desk in the basement bullpen of the Daily Planet, Clark Kent looked up from typing on his computer to see Lois staring off into the distance with a glazed, vacant look on her face. It wasn’t the sort of expression that he’d expected to see on her face on her first day back at work after returning from her impromptu “vacation.” In fact, he’d been bracing himself for a continuation of the argument that they’d had before she left regarding why he hadn’t shown for their scheduling taping sessions for Good Morning, Metropolis.
But Lois hadn’t said anything on that subject yet, and as Clark looked on, a pen fell from his colleague’s slack fingers to hit the floor. Mildly concerned by her atypical behavior, Clark reached over to get a pen and accidentally bumped his cup of coffee with his elbow, knocking it over and spilling coffee all over some copy that he’d been working.
Sighing, the Kryptonian set the now-empty cup aside and began blotting up the coffee with some blank paper. When he didn’t get a reaction from Lois to the mess that he’d just made, he looked up and saw that she was still blankly gazing into space.
“Earth to Lois,” he said, finally getting the brunette’s attention. “It’s like you’ve been on another planet for the last fifteen minutes.”
“Easy, Armstrong,” Lois scoffed as she regained her usual poise. “This space case is buried in research. I’ve got like two weeks’ worth of work to catch up on.”
“It was sort of a last-minute vacation, wasn’t it?” Clark commented as he balled up the coffee-stained papers on his desk and threw them in his wastebasket, momentarily getting up to retrieve the pen that Lois had dropped and handing it to her.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got a pretty tightly wound bolt reflex,” the brunette admitted as she took the pen from Clark.
“Is this about what happened?” the Kryptonian asked her curiously, thinking of their not-so-little blowup before she left.
Unfortunately, Lois confused his question with a reference to her vivid erotic daydream of a few moments ago, causing the brunette’s cheeks to flush at the memory.
Clark noticed, his expression turning more quizzical as he inquired, “Are you turning red?” He didn’t think Lois would be embarrassed at the thought of an argument like that, especially since he’d flat out said that she was more interested in fame than the truth.
Unsettled and a bit flustered, Lois bolted up from her chair to archly inform him, “Believe it or not, but my little ejector seat malfunction wasn’t totally about you.”
“We should talk about it,” Clark nodded. You couldn’t just brush insulting a co-worker’s integrity under the rug like that.
That statement only earned him a glare as Lois said, “When I wanna talk about it, I’ll send up a smoke signal.”
She turned and stormed away from her desk, nearly colliding with a young man clad in the green uniform and cap of a worker for Federated Couriers.
“Excuse me,” the kid said, offering Lois his clipboard. “Can you help me? I need a signature.”
Chucking his thumb in the general direction of the employee entrance, he said, “I’ve got a delivery out back and no one’s in yet.”
Grinning at the distraction, Lois took the clipboard from the courier and scribbled her signature on it.
A few minutes later she and Clark were standing in the loading bay of the Daily Planet, looking at a large wooden crate with a bright red bow and ribbon on the top.
“Ho, ho, ho, merry Christmas to me,” Lois chuckled before approaching the crate.
Refraining from pointing out to her that it was barely September, Clark instead said, “You want me to help you with this?”
“No,” Lois said in a tone of annoyance as she fetched a crowbar from a nearby table and started prying at the lid of the crate. “Did I ever tell you that before Christmas, I used to unwrap all my presents and then rewrap them while my parents were still sleeping?”
“You know, Lois, that doesn’t surprise me at all,” Clark dryly commented as Lois dropped the crowbar and started tugging at the loosened crate lid.
As he helped her toss the lid aside, both of them were flabbergasted by the contents of the crate: four men tied up in their underwear with their mouths duct taped shut and sitting in a pile of large clear plastic bags of white powder, some of which had ruptured, dusting the men with their contents.
“Just what I’ve always wanted,” Lois gibed, her eyes wide with shock.
Staring down at the men and what he could only assume was a large quantity of drugs, Clark said, “Is that--?”
“I don’t think it’s powdered sugar, Smallville,” was Lois’ dry reply.
“Lois Lane, Daily Planet,” she said, introducing herself as she leaned over to rip the tape off the mouth of one of the men. “Care to comment on what illegal activities you’ve been up to that got you trussed up like a turkey?”
“I’m a cop,” the man said as soon as his mouth was unobstructed. “We’re all undercover cops. Our sting went south.”
“Someone must’ve thought you were the real dealers,” Clark realized.
“Who could be responsible for such a super-screwup?” Lois asked as she looked away from the humiliated police officers to Clark.
Just then there was a commotion outside with screeching tires and a woman shouting, “Hey, there’s something on the building!”
“Who do you think did it?” someone else in the gathering crowd asked as Clark and Lois ventured outside, ducking under the loading dock as they went. They were completely unprepared for what they saw when they got outside.
“It was the Blur,” someone said as the two reporters found themselves looking at a huge symbol that had been spray painted in yellow on the side of a nearby brick building:
!
The execution was a bit sloppy, but it was still unmistakably the symbol of the House of El.
“Now that’s what I call a scoop,” Lois commented as she gazed at the Blur’s symbol.
In contrast, Clark was silent, his jaw clenching as he contemplated this blatant appropriation of his Kryptonian family’s crest. He knew he hadn’t done this, as he could tell even in the early morning light that the paint was still fresh, and he’d been at work for an hour when the symbol had presumably been done.
He didn’t think Lana would have done this, either, and even if Kara was back on Earth -- which he had no evidence of, anyway -- this stunt seemed too sloppy even for her.
So the question was, who was responsible?
* * * * *
By Carolus
Summary: Rewrite of episode 9.08, “Idol.” While Lois tries to make sense of the recurring sensual dreams that she has been having involving Clark, two well-meaning admirers inadvertently ruin the Blur’s reputation with their efforts, and Jor-El learns more about his son and Lana.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and sexual references.
Spoilers: Everything up to and including “Power,” serious spoilers for “Idol.”
Author Notes: This story is set in my Clana-friendly season nine, which ignores the events of “Requiem” in season eight and follows “Reign,” which contains links to previous stories in the series, “Synthesis,” “Frenzy,” “Surprise,” “Roulette,” “Vicious,” and “Genesis.” The Kryptonian TrueType font will be required to read certain symbols.
Disclaimer: Smallville doesn’t belong to me, unfortunately, but to Tollin/Robbins Productions, Millar Gough Ink, DC Comics, and Warner Brothers Television. I’m just having some fun here.
* * * * *
Lois Lane woke up in bed at Oliver Queen’s penthouse in Queen Tower with a naked male body spooned up behind her and an arm slung around her midsection. The male body in question felt decidedly larger and more muscular than she remembered Oliver being, an impression that was confirmed when she looked over her shoulder to see Clark Kent behind her.
Sitting up, Lois pulled the top sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself for modesty before turning to study Clark’s face. She frowned when he noticed that he didn’t look very peaceful for someone who had fallen asleep after a night of passion. In fact, even with his eyes closed in sleep, Clark’s features seemed intent, even calculating -- an expression totally out of place on the normally easygoing farm boy that she knew.
A bit disturbed, Lois got up from the bed, still clutching the sheet around her naked body as she winced slightly at all the new aches and pains in her body. God, she felt like she’d been ridden hard and put away wet.
Flushing slightly as she remembered how she’d gotten that way, Lois made her way to the bedroom door and walked out into the main area of Oliver’s penthouse, glancing at the various items of her and Clark’s clothing that were strewn along the way. Her gaze briefly landed on two items on the couch -- a long dark red coat and a black T-shirt decorated with a strange “Z”-like symbol composed of two rotated white L-shapes bordering a diagonal white slash with a knotlike figure in its center -- before she looked out the penthouse balcony’s glass doors to see a red sky with a crimson sun.
As she stood there, there was a whoosh of air behind her, and an instant later she heard Clark murmur, “You shouldn’t have wandered off,” as a hand landed on her shoulder and he roughly turned her to face him.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he said with a cold, confident smile that Lois didn’t normally associate with Clark Kent -- at least, not the Clark Kent she knew.
Glancing at the hand that Clark had on her shoulder, Lois caught a brief glimpse of a silver ring set with an odd, iridescent pinkish-white stone on his left ring finger as he said, “Now… shall we pick up where we left off last night?”
Suddenly all of Lois’ odd feelings and misgivings about the situation were replaced by an intense feeling of lust as she relinquished her grip on the sheet that she held wrapped around her.
“Yeah, why don’t we do that?” she said with a seductive smile as the sheet fell to the floor, leaving her naked as she stepped forward and embraced Clark.
Pulling Lois against him as she twined her arms around his neck, Clark took her mouth in a rough, bruising kiss, eliciting a moan from the brunette as his hands began to roam their way down her back…
Sitting at his desk in the basement bullpen of the Daily Planet, Clark Kent looked up from typing on his computer to see Lois staring off into the distance with a glazed, vacant look on her face. It wasn’t the sort of expression that he’d expected to see on her face on her first day back at work after returning from her impromptu “vacation.” In fact, he’d been bracing himself for a continuation of the argument that they’d had before she left regarding why he hadn’t shown for their scheduling taping sessions for Good Morning, Metropolis.
But Lois hadn’t said anything on that subject yet, and as Clark looked on, a pen fell from his colleague’s slack fingers to hit the floor. Mildly concerned by her atypical behavior, Clark reached over to get a pen and accidentally bumped his cup of coffee with his elbow, knocking it over and spilling coffee all over some copy that he’d been working.
Sighing, the Kryptonian set the now-empty cup aside and began blotting up the coffee with some blank paper. When he didn’t get a reaction from Lois to the mess that he’d just made, he looked up and saw that she was still blankly gazing into space.
“Earth to Lois,” he said, finally getting the brunette’s attention. “It’s like you’ve been on another planet for the last fifteen minutes.”
“Easy, Armstrong,” Lois scoffed as she regained her usual poise. “This space case is buried in research. I’ve got like two weeks’ worth of work to catch up on.”
“It was sort of a last-minute vacation, wasn’t it?” Clark commented as he balled up the coffee-stained papers on his desk and threw them in his wastebasket, momentarily getting up to retrieve the pen that Lois had dropped and handing it to her.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got a pretty tightly wound bolt reflex,” the brunette admitted as she took the pen from Clark.
“Is this about what happened?” the Kryptonian asked her curiously, thinking of their not-so-little blowup before she left.
Unfortunately, Lois confused his question with a reference to her vivid erotic daydream of a few moments ago, causing the brunette’s cheeks to flush at the memory.
Clark noticed, his expression turning more quizzical as he inquired, “Are you turning red?” He didn’t think Lois would be embarrassed at the thought of an argument like that, especially since he’d flat out said that she was more interested in fame than the truth.
Unsettled and a bit flustered, Lois bolted up from her chair to archly inform him, “Believe it or not, but my little ejector seat malfunction wasn’t totally about you.”
“We should talk about it,” Clark nodded. You couldn’t just brush insulting a co-worker’s integrity under the rug like that.
That statement only earned him a glare as Lois said, “When I wanna talk about it, I’ll send up a smoke signal.”
She turned and stormed away from her desk, nearly colliding with a young man clad in the green uniform and cap of a worker for Federated Couriers.
“Excuse me,” the kid said, offering Lois his clipboard. “Can you help me? I need a signature.”
Chucking his thumb in the general direction of the employee entrance, he said, “I’ve got a delivery out back and no one’s in yet.”
Grinning at the distraction, Lois took the clipboard from the courier and scribbled her signature on it.
A few minutes later she and Clark were standing in the loading bay of the Daily Planet, looking at a large wooden crate with a bright red bow and ribbon on the top.
“Ho, ho, ho, merry Christmas to me,” Lois chuckled before approaching the crate.
Refraining from pointing out to her that it was barely September, Clark instead said, “You want me to help you with this?”
“No,” Lois said in a tone of annoyance as she fetched a crowbar from a nearby table and started prying at the lid of the crate. “Did I ever tell you that before Christmas, I used to unwrap all my presents and then rewrap them while my parents were still sleeping?”
“You know, Lois, that doesn’t surprise me at all,” Clark dryly commented as Lois dropped the crowbar and started tugging at the loosened crate lid.
As he helped her toss the lid aside, both of them were flabbergasted by the contents of the crate: four men tied up in their underwear with their mouths duct taped shut and sitting in a pile of large clear plastic bags of white powder, some of which had ruptured, dusting the men with their contents.
“Just what I’ve always wanted,” Lois gibed, her eyes wide with shock.
Staring down at the men and what he could only assume was a large quantity of drugs, Clark said, “Is that--?”
“I don’t think it’s powdered sugar, Smallville,” was Lois’ dry reply.
“Lois Lane, Daily Planet,” she said, introducing herself as she leaned over to rip the tape off the mouth of one of the men. “Care to comment on what illegal activities you’ve been up to that got you trussed up like a turkey?”
“I’m a cop,” the man said as soon as his mouth was unobstructed. “We’re all undercover cops. Our sting went south.”
“Someone must’ve thought you were the real dealers,” Clark realized.
“Who could be responsible for such a super-screwup?” Lois asked as she looked away from the humiliated police officers to Clark.
Just then there was a commotion outside with screeching tires and a woman shouting, “Hey, there’s something on the building!”
“Who do you think did it?” someone else in the gathering crowd asked as Clark and Lois ventured outside, ducking under the loading dock as they went. They were completely unprepared for what they saw when they got outside.
“It was the Blur,” someone said as the two reporters found themselves looking at a huge symbol that had been spray painted in yellow on the side of a nearby brick building:
!
The execution was a bit sloppy, but it was still unmistakably the symbol of the House of El.
“Now that’s what I call a scoop,” Lois commented as she gazed at the Blur’s symbol.
In contrast, Clark was silent, his jaw clenching as he contemplated this blatant appropriation of his Kryptonian family’s crest. He knew he hadn’t done this, as he could tell even in the early morning light that the paint was still fresh, and he’d been at work for an hour when the symbol had presumably been done.
He didn’t think Lana would have done this, either, and even if Kara was back on Earth -- which he had no evidence of, anyway -- this stunt seemed too sloppy even for her.
So the question was, who was responsible?
* * * * *
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