Author's Note: I do not own the characters.

THE TROUBLE WITH SPRING CLEANING.

Clark entered the Metropolis apartment he and Lois shared, arms laden with bags full of all the groceries Lois had requested. He had woken up early to do some minor chores back at the farm before popping into the grocery store a couple of blocks from the apartment. Lois had chosen to have a lie in on this Saturday morning.

What should have taken just a few moments had ended up taking the best part of two hours. Three rescues in different parts of the country had seen to that. One of them had already hit the news headlines.

"Lois?" he called out, looking to put the groceries down on the dining table.

"Just a minute," Lois called back from the vicinity of the bedroom.

The dining table was currently stacked with open boxes. The coffee table was similarly occupied, and Clark could see heaps of clothing haphazardly scattered about everywhere else he looked. He surmised that Lois must be looking for something, because she always managed to turn the place upside down every time she needed to look for something. 'Organised chaos', she called it. How organised were you really if you were always looking for a needle in a haystack after you were the one who'd put the needle away in the first place?

Lois stepped out of the room, dressed in her casual tank and jeans combo with her hair loosely tied in a bun. "Hey it's about time you got home. I was thinking of calling a search party. Did you get it?"

She reached over and swiped one of the bags, quickly lifting out the item that made her eyes light up - a pack of Ding Dongs. No wait, two packs!

Most. Awesome. Fiancé. Ever!

"Lois, what's going on here?"

"I was trying to find my other phone. I called the number but the battery must be dead. I have a couple of contacts on there that I think might help with my next story." It was the same burner phone on which she stashed contacts she didn't want to store on her regular phone. The same phone she and Perry White used when they were following up leads on something called the Book of Rao.

"And did you find it?"

"Of course!" Lois scoffed. "Nothing stays hidden from me for long."

Clark chuckled inside and diverted his gaze back to the mess. "What made you think it was hidden amongst my clothes? Because from what I can tell, this is all my stuff."

"No it's not. While I was searching, I found a whole bunch of stuff we never use so I decided that we need to get rid of some of it. This place could do with a little spring clean."

He eyed her sceptically and walked towards the easy chair, upon which there were a couple of items of her clothing, nicely folded. He reached over to pick them up, noting that there were a couple of tank tops and a blouse, and that's it.

"And you decided that you wanted to get rid of my stuff too."

It was becoming clear that all the mess belonged to him. Flannel shirts as far as the eye could see. A few jeans, a stack of red and blue t-shirts and a handful of socks. Was there anything left in his closet?

Clark spotted something shiny and red amid the heap on the couch. Pulling it loose, he realised it was his old Smallville Crows championship jersey. His thumb roamed over the letters KENT with the large number 8 beneath as the memories came flooding back. That championship victory had been one of his fondest memories of high school. Only 7 seconds had remained on the clock and the Crows were down by a score. The situation called for a runner in the end zone and the most miraculous of Hail Marys, and that is precisely what the situation got. The Crows scored a touchdown just as the clock counted down to zero, thereby winning the game and claiming the state championship in the most dramatic of circumstances. Clark's performance had earned the respect of his teammates, he'd felt the elation of victory and heard the roar from the grandstand. But more than anything, he felt a sense of normality that had largely eluded him during his high school years.

He could not bear to part with the jersey. There were other fond memories associated with this shiny polyester piece of high school sportswear that he also cherished.

"You don't even wear that thing," Lois pointed out, though she had no idea it had ended up in the pile, having simply gathered up items Clark had arranged neatly at the side of his closet and dumped them on the couch. "And I haven't so much as heard a peep out of you about football ever since you tried out for your college scholarship."

"There's nothing wrong with a bit of nostalgia. It's a memento of an important time in my life. I felt like one of the guys, and not just a kid who had to hide all his abilities."

Lois fully understood what he meant. She had more than a few of her own bits and pieces that might look mundane to anyone else, but which meant the world to her. The pillow encased in a Whitesnake t-shirt for example, which still had pride of place on the couch. Maybe Clark could frame his jersey so it would be a proper memento on the wall rather than tucked away from view.

"It probably doesn't fit you anyway. You're a lot more buff than you were back then."

"You're right. It wouldn't look good on me."

"Yeah, it doesn't go with the cape."

"It'd look good on you though."

"Huh?"

"I seem to remember you wearing it on a few occasions. I thought it looked good on you."

Lois thought about the times she had worn it. She liked the feel of it against her skin. She liked how it was so large it easily covered most of her. She liked the smell of the fabric - a combination of laundry detergent and the unmistakable manly scent of Clark that had embedded itself into it. It was a shirt which made her happy.

"You did huh? Well, I guess it wouldn't do any harm to keep a hold of it then." Lois swiped the jersey out of Clark's hand.

Clark shook his head as he watched Lois disappear into the bedroom. He was just about to start tidying up the mess when there was a knock at the door. There had been no-one buzzing on the intercom. Lois hadn't mentioned that she was expecting company. The face that greeted him when he opened the door startled him.

"General Lane! Sir, what are you doing here?"

Lois father was stood there in his military fatigues with his cap tucked under his arm, looking Clark squarely in the eye. It was every bit as intimidating for Clark as it had been every time the two met.

"Hello Clark. I was in town and thought I'd stop by to see my daughter. Is Lois here?"

"Yeah, she's just-"

"So how are thing with you, Clark?" the General interrupted, moving into the apartment and forcing Clark to step aside. "Still with the paper?"

"Writing for the Planet? Yes sir, I am. How did you get in?"

"I told the security guard that I was here to see my daughter. Turns out I know his old man from our Fort Ryan days."

Despite his intimidating facial expressions, Sam Lane was far warmer towards Clark than he'd been when he'd visited Smallville for Thanksgiving a couple of years ago, but the two still found it difficult to strike up a fluid conversation. Sam still had a way of speaking that almost sounded like an interrogation, and Clark still felt the need to be elusive about what he did all day. He knew Lois' father had an inkling about his alter ego but Sam never pushed. He was just grateful that somebody was protecting his daughter, even from herself.

"Oh. Sorry, please come in," offered Clark. Sam carefully walked into the living area, looking around the apartment as if sizing it up for approval or condemnation, the way he might with recruits back at the barracks. "And please excuse the mess. We were just-"

A voice from the bedroom interrupted what was already an awkward conversation.

"Oh Mr Quarterback!" came the dulcet purr.

Clark, noting Sam's brow had furrowed, closed his eyes and grimaced. If he'd felt uncomfortable just a second ago, it was nothing compared to now. Now you could pile highly embarrassing on top of the uncomfortable, and sit yourself down on it for good measure. Lois obviously had no clue that they had company.

"My end zone is wide open and I'm waiting to receive your ball," her voice announced, even sultrier than before. The voice which would normally stir things up in Clark was now, thanks to the presence of her father, making those things gradually shrink altogether.

Oh no!

Clark opened his eyes, hoping against hope that his future father-in-law had himself disappeared, or at the very least hadn't heard any of that. Sam was still standing in front of him with an inscrutable expression on his face. It was equal parts disapproving, alarmed, surprised and embarrassed.

The bedroom door slowly opened, and Clark's panic level rose exponentially. She was coming out of the room. When she put on her sexy voice like that, the two of them were usually alone, and she would usually be in a state of undress that a father would never approve of, and that a 4-star General with a fearsome reputation would definitely never approve of.

Please be decent! Please be decent! Please be decent!

"C'mon, the clock's ticking on another one of your Hail Mary..." Lois spoke again. Whatever she was about to add practically died in her throat as she looked up to see her father stood there beside Clark. Her hungry smile faded and her eyes flew wide open as her words skidded to a halt and veered in a totally different direction in one fluid motion. The soft inviting tone of a horny twenty-something gave way to the shell-shocked shriek of a teenager who'd been busted by her parents for fooling around with the school bad boy behind their backs. "...Mother of God! DADDY!"

The door closed behind her, taking away her means of escape. Her body instantly flamed red to match the colour of the jersey draped over her lithe figure. She was stark naked beneath the polyester. Panic, guilt and sheer embarrassment were writ large across her face. She was living a nightmare.

"Hello, Lo," her father replied back slowly.

"Daddy, what are you doing here?!" Lois yelped. She was tugging furiously at the bottom of the jersey and made no move to give her father a hug.

Clark did not know what to do. A quick burst of x-ray vision told him that Lois might indeed be naked beneath his jersey.

"I was in town for a meeting, and I thought I'd stop by to see my little girl."

Lois wanted the ground to swallow her up.

"I can see that you two are...busy," Sam started, feeling every bit as awkward as Lois but trying not to show it. "So how about the three of us have dinner tonight? I've been recommended a great steak house, The Flaming Midwest. I'm told they do an excellent Porterhouse."

Clark crept closer to Lois in an attempt to preserve what little dignity she might have left, acting as a shield between her and the father. He knew she wanted to run into the bedroom and hide.

"Dinner sounds great sir. We'll be there."

"Good. Shall we say nineteen hundred hours?" Unless Sam's presence was required elsewhere, nineteen hundred hours was the routine time for his evening meal.

Clark and Lois shared a glance, with Lois nodding. The wide eyes and red face were still in evidence. She looked guilty as sin.

He turned back to her father. "Nineteen hundred it is."

Sam replaced the cap on his head and made for the door. "Alright then. We'll meet up there as I'm busy all afternoon. You need the address, Kent?"

"Don't worry sir. We'll find it."

Sam nodded. "Lo, I'll see you this evening. We can talk properly then."

Sam left the apartment, and once Clark had shut the door, Lois exhaled the breath she had been holding in. The floor beneath her feet had remained solid instead of fading away so she could sink through it.

"So, that was interesting," he began after a long pause.

Lois didn't answer him, instead turning on her heels, all four cheeks burning red with mortification, and dashing into the bedroom, slamming the door shut. Clark got busy tidying up the living room, and very quickly all his clothes were neatly folded on the table. He didn't need to get rid of any of them.

Lois was back out a couple of minutes later dressed in the clothes she'd been wearing only minutes ago. The flush on her face had disappeared and her eyes no longer bulged from their sockets. The Crows jersey was in her hand.

"That's it! We are getting rid of this shirt."

"Why?"

Lois couldn't believe Clark. "Why? That's the second time my dad has walked in on us when we're about to get hot and heavy. I was wearing this damned thing the last time too!"

"I don't think he thought that."

Clark took the jersey from her, replacing it with the pack of Ding Dongs. She visibly calmed.

"Clark, you need to pay attention to everything he says. This is a man who scopes out a joint the second he walks in. This is a man who can tell when someone is hiding something. This is a man who will push for a confession despite holding all the evidence. Oh trust me, he knew exactly what was going on."

"You know, he's not here now," replied Clark suggestively, moving closer.

Lois thrust her hands out to stop him. "Easy cowboy, the moment's over."

Now she had the rest of the day to over mull tonight's dinner at the restaurant. After this morning's embarrassment, she would need to pick out her most conservative attire and hope her father never brought any of this up. Dinner with him was an ordeal in and of itself. She didn't need another lecture and his withering disapproval. She certainly did not need advice on being careful. They were capable of having a nice meal together as long as the chat didn't include anything about today.

For his part, Clark was thinking about how he could get Lois into his Crows jersey once again. It represented victory, and there were plenty more wins to be racked up.

FIN.