A/N: Hey there! It's been a while since I've posted something and I figure it's about damn time. I want to give a shout out to Wahoogal06- she's been my guiding light and biggest cheerleader these past six months or so as I'm laboring on what is proving to be my most ambitious piece ever. I've been working on that piece for such a long time, I'd almost forgotten about 'Logistics'. I made a bet with WG last month- if 'Logistics' won an award in the Superman Movieverse Awards, I'd reward everyone with a new chapter. Alas, it was not meant to be. I want to send out a heartfelt congratulations to everyone nominated for the awards and a ginormous thank you to everyone who voted for 'Logistics'!

I have to admit that my self-confidence as a writer has been shaken these past few months (7 chapters in as many months will do that to you). WG has done her absolute best to duct tape me back together and, in her infinite wisdom, gave me a very sage piece of advice- the best way to give myself a boost is to post something new on and prove to myself that there are people out there who do like my stuff. So, that said…reviews are always welcome!

So, here's to WG and her wonderful friendship and advice and to everyone that makes what we do worthwhile.

Thanks! VS

Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or any of the characters… I just have fun with them. I don't own or claim any rights to any name brand items, movies, books or people used. I just borrowed them for a little bit.

Without further ado, I give you Chapter 6 of The Logistics of Being Superman.

"Go, go, go—move it! Oh hell, he's getting away!" Lois looked back over her shoulder at the tall man hot on her heels. "Clark! Get the car—I'm going after him!" She blindly flung her keys in his direction; he dove after them as they bounced and skidded to a halt perilously close to an open storm drain.

He scooped up her overly-large key ring and stared after his feisty partner as she bolted across the busy intersection, deftly avoiding cars and trucks in her pursuit of their quarry. "KENT! Move your ASS and get the car NOW! He's getting away!"

Clark turned to run back to the navy blue Audi parked down the block when he remembered something that stopped him dead in his tracks. He nervously glanced between his partner, her keys and her car as if mentally arguing with himself. Too late he realized that his indecision had cost them their lead as Lois' frustrated scream reverberated between the tall buildings. A soft "thump, thump, thump" reached his sensitive ears, indicating that she had found something a bit more solid, like a brick wall, to vent her anger on.

"KENT!" Lois bellowed as she made her way back, this time waiting for the lights to change before crossing. "You better have a DAMN good reason why you didn't get the DAMN car!!"

"Umm…uhhh…"

"Well?! I'm waiting!"

"Well you see…it's like this…"

She stood before him, hands on her hips, looking she was about ready to shoot her own brand of fire from her eyes. "Spit it out already! You're really pissing me off tonight!"

"I…I…" He glanced down at his feet in embarrassment as he muttered, "I can't drive."

"WHAT?! What do you mean you CAN'T DRIVE!?" Her jaw fell slack in incredulity as she took in her partner's sheepish countenance. "You could drive five years ago! So what, did you just FORGET?! Do you have vehicular amnesia or something?!"

"N-no! No, it's not like that; I can drive—I just can't."

"Oh that makes perfect sense! Why didn't I think of that before?!"

"Lois, calm down, please."

"Calm down? Calm down?! You want me to calm down after you," she jabbed her finger in his chest, "Just LET him slip through our fingers?!"

"It'll be okay—we can pick up the surveillance on his partner tomorrow night."

"He'll have told EVERYONE about what happened tonight by then! Thanks to you we won't be able to get within fifty feet of them without alarms going off!" Anger nearly spent, she slumped against the brick wall behind them. He sat down next to her. "You still haven't explained why you screwed up our whole investigation."

Clark winced at her accusation before boldly trying to defend himself. "I didn't screw it up…"

"Oh yeah? Could've fooled me." Lois huffed into her arms that lay folded across the tops of her knees. Coming down off of her adrenaline rush, her voice seemed tiny and Clark felt a surge of protectiveness even though he had indirectly caused her current mood.

"I don't have a driver's license." He tilted his head back against the wall; his Adam's Apple jutted prominently from his neck and bobbed as he spoke.

"You…don't?" Whatever scathing remark she had on the tip of her tongue dissipated in her surprise. "Why not? Doesn't everyone have one?"

"Well, I had one—it kind of expired while I was gone and I haven't had a chance to renew it." He looked everywhere but at his fiery partner.

"Just because you don't have a driver's license doesn't mean you can't drive a car." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Lois!" he cried, scandalized. "That's illegal!"

"Oh that's rich—have you even looked at your resume for the Planet lately? Let's see...there's the B&E on the Schumacher case..."

"I did NOT b-break into those offices," he scoffed, the stutter unforced for once. "You did! I-I just stood guard outside..." He trailed off as he recalled the investigation that had led them to the Hanover Street building in the first place.

"See? That's aiding and abetting right there! Face it Clark—you're a crook anyway so a little unlicensed driving shouldn't have fazed you." She shook her head in disappointment. "Over-grown, freaking boy scout," she added under her breath.

He opened his mouth to retort when she cut him off once more, ""Get up. Gimme my keys—we're going back to the Planet."

"Why? It's nearly six." He unfurled his long frame and clambered to his feet after her.

"Well, someone has to explain to Perry why our article is going to be so short! It sure as heck ain't gonna be me, buster—it wasn't MY fault the idiot got away."

"But..."

"No 'buts'. You do the crime, you do the time. Besides, you've got some research to do."

"What? Why?! I thought we'd finished our research!"

"Well, it was finished until someone I know let our source escape—now we've got half an article with no corroboration whatsoever. Perry's not going to let it anywhere NEAR the presses with those huge, gaping holes in it." As she spoke, they both climbed into her Audi parked tight against the curb. Clark winced as his gangly knees hit the glove box and he whacked his head on the doorframe getting in; he sincerely hoped there wouldn't be any damage when he got out. Fortunately, Lois was too busy talking to notice.

Several days later, Lois' tantrum still had not abated. Clark sat at his desk, hunched over his keyboard as unobtrusively as possible; even so, he still found himself the focus of her wrath on more than one occasion.

"What's up with Lois?" Richard sidled up to the tall reporter rather than ask the object of discussion who was currently stapling the heck out of a sheaf of papers just to get the chance to hit something. "I asked her what was wrong a few days ago and all I got was some grumbling and your name. It must be something big if she's still grumbling."

"W-we had to stay late earlier this week to get the article ready for the morning paper—there was some additional research that had to be done to back up this one section since we were unable to catch our source. Anyways, she's mad at me because she feels I flubbed the entire investigation."

"Completely massacred it is more like it!" she hollered from her desk, unsolicited.

"Ouch. Sorry buddy—what did you do?"

"I uh...I'd rather not say. It's uh..." he cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to his desk. "It's a bit embarrassing."

"What's so embarrassing about admitting you don't have a driver's license? Or is it embarrassing to admit that we couldn't catch our guy because you were too busy playing "Dudley Do-right" to help! Besides, it can't make you any dorkier than you already are." Her scathing tone made both men wince. "Come on Kent."

"Wha-huh?"

"Get the lead out. You're coming with me."

He shot her a nervous look, wondering if she was going to 'do away with him' like he saw happen in the movies. If that were the case, he knew definitively not to leave the premises without witnesses. "W-where are we going?"

She glared at him over the tops of her glasses. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm still pissed at you, and you ARE going to make it up to me."

"M-make it up? T-to you?" Lois grinned evilly at Clark's obvious discomfort at that statement and Richard glanced at the tall reporter sympathetically.

She grabbed his battered, dark brown briefcase and swept everything from his desk into it before attempting to cram it closed. "Hey! What are you doing?!"

"I told you to move it, Kent. Since you're not moving fast enough I'm trying to accelerate your routine. Now—get the lead out or else..." She let her unspoken threat hang tangibly between them and Clark hastened to shut off his computer and collect his lightweight, taupe jacket before following his partner to the elevators.

"Now where in Sam Hill do you two think you're going?! You still owe me six inches of print!" Perry White's voice thundered across the bullpen, stopping Clark in his tracks.

Lois kept moving and tossed over her shoulder, "Gotta go meet a source, Chief!"

"Don't call me 'Chief'." The older man continued grumbling under his breath as his star reporting team disappeared into an elevator, all the while under his hawk-eyed gaze.

"I-it's just creepy how he does that sometimes." Lois just stared at the lit up buttons in front of her, not even acknowledging his presence. "Listen, Lo'..." She cut him off with a palm in his face. He didn't let that deter him, "I'm really sorry..."

"Sssh."

"The guy getting away like that..."

"Sssh."

"Well it wasn't supposed to happen…"

"Ssssh!"

"What I mean to say is…"

"SSSHHH!!"

"It was entirely my fault."

"What?" she asked, finally ceasing her shushing as she directed her hazel gaze to his face. As his comment finally sank in, she cried out in incredulity. "You're apologizing?"

"Well yes. I've been trying for the past few minutes, but you keep shushing me."

"So...you admit that you were wrong?"

He sighed in defeat, shoulder slumping forward even more. "Yes, I was wrong. Can you forgive me?"

"You're too soft, Kent. Richard would've held out for at least another day before caving." Her unintentional comparison of the two men made Clark's heart feel heavy; while he genuinely liked Richard White, his unreciprocated feelings made it hard to listen to her talk about her fiancé. "You have a bit further to go before I can completely forgive you."

He heaved his broad shoulders in an overly-dramatic, long-suffering sigh that only his mother ever saw anymore. If Lois noticed the change in his demeanor, she didn't comment on it.

"Oh come on, Smallville. It's not going to be that bad. Besides, have I ever steered you wrong before?"

He perked up a bit at the use of her nickname for him. Finally! There's a light at the end of the tunnel. "Uhhhh..."

"Don't you dare answer that!"

"Uh Lois? Now will you tell me where we're going?" He braced one arm against the taupe dashboard while clutching the O.S. bar in the other, carefully so as not to crush it. She responded with more of the silent treatment. Clark sighed aloud; he was getting really tired of her hot and cold act. "Uh Lois? W-watch out for those guys!" He nearly crossed himself as they took the corner on what felt like two wheels. Ever since that fateful day seven years ago when he'd discovered that Lois drove with one foot on the gas and the other on the brake, he did anything possible not to get in a car with her. He was even guilty of having used Superman as an excuse a time or two to avoid "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride", as Jason liked to call his mother's driving.

"Uh Lois?"

"Just shut up and let me drive; besides, it's not like you're in any position to give me pointers, Mister." They rode in silence for several minutes, speeding through at least three separate yellow lights, before she spoke up again. "So, how have you been getting around?" Lois' innate curiosity had gotten the better of her and she broke her own vow of silence.

"Wha...huh? What do you mean?" He stuttered, caught off guard by her sudden politeness.

"Without a driver's license: how do you get places?"

"Well—I walk or take the bus, but mostly I take a taxi." Let's not forget the flying, he added silently.

"How do you function without one?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you need it for your charge cards or checks and stuff?" Clark felt eerily like one of her sources as she continued her interrogation.

"Oh well, I do have an ID card issued by the DMV. That never expires."

"Oh. Why did you get an ID card if you had a driver's license too?"

"Actually, it's to protect myself from a pretty common form of ID theft. A lot of people don't realize that licenses and ID cards are usually kept on two separate databases in most states; even if you have a license, someone can still go apply for an ID card with your name and information on it. If you have both, you cover all your bases and protect yourself from fraud."

"You sound just like one of those stupid brochures I get from my bank."

"Gosh, you r-really should r-read those, Lois. There is a lot of important information in them." His response was met with stony silence when she remembered that she was supposed to still be ignoring him.

Ten excruciating minutes later, Lois pulled her compact car into the parking lot of the Metropolis DMV located near the western edge of the city. While she hunted around for a space Clark took the opportunity to speak again, hoping she wouldn't call him out for talking out of turn. "Why are w-we here? Are we meeting someone?"

Ignoring her passenger once again, she sped first one way, then another. "Uh Lois? You just passed a spot." She just shook her head and continued driving. "And another...w-why don't you just park in one of these?"

"No."

"Why not? They're perfectly good spaces."

"I can't park my Audi just anywhere." She responded as if that made perfect sense. "Look, I can't park under certain types of trees otherwise I'll have to wash it, and I can't park it between two vans because I don't feel like getting mugged and the driver's side door has to have at least six inches of clearance when it's opened."

"Oh." He was about to ask why when she answered without prompting.

"Have you ever tried to get out of a short car in a skirt? Nevermind, don't answer that, I don't want to be stuck with that mental picture." She threw the car in reverse suddenly; the tires squealed as she backed into a handicap spot to turn around.

With a cry of delight, the car shot forward and slammed Clark's head into the seat. Fifty feet away, an older lady was slowly pulling her white Crown Victoria from a spot near the door. An SUV waited from the opposite direction with its blinker on, signaling the driver's intention to take the available spot. Too late, he realized that Lois was going to try to race the SUV. Ignoring pretty much every traffic rule in the book, she gunned the engine and slid into the parking spot before the Ford had even really cleared out of it.

The driver of the SUV laid on his horn and Lois stuck her head out of the driver's side window and shouted, "Do you mind? Can't you see I'm trying to park?! Where'd you learn to drive anyway, Timbuktu?!"

The driver responded with a rude hand gesture and sped off which served to further irritate her. "Geez—some people just can't take defeat real well. I won this spot, fair and square."

"I wouldn't say that, per se…"

"Did I ask you?" At his silence, she continued, "Didn't think so." Lois calmly shifted the Audi into park and shut off the engine. As she moved to gather her purse, Clark sat completely still, head pressed against the headrest, eyes closed, with one hand on the dash and the other braced against the window. When he made no move to exit the car, she got mad. "Come off it, Kent, I am NOT that bad of a parker."

"It's not the parking, it's the driving that concerns me," he muttered under his breath as he staggered from the vehicle, thankful to be in one piece.

"What was that?!" she snapped.

He stared at her from behind his thick lenses with wide eyes. "Um, look at that tree!"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Uhhh, gee, Lois. You don't suppose it's an elm do you?"

"It's a birch. Now get a move on—you're worse than Jason stalling at the doctor's office when he has to get a shot."

At the mention of shots Clark winced, although the only time he had to have one he was unconscious and the nurse was still unable to pierce his skin. "You still haven't explained why we're here."

"YOU are going to re-apply for a driver's license."

"What? Now?!"

"No, next year—yes now! Now move your skinny ass before I have to drag you in there!" Several people emerging from the building gave Lois a wide berth as she stood in the middle of the walkway, hands perched on her hips and tapping her foot.

He sighed again before following her into the Metropolis DMV. It's turning into a very sigh-worthy day, isn't it?

Clark wanted very much to blend in with the furniture and potted plants when Lois breezed up to the check-in desk like she owned the place and sized up the older, Morgan Freeman look-a-like behind the counter before cutting him off in mid-greet and demanding, "We're here on very important business—we need to see a clerk right away."

"Huh," the man chuffed into his grizzled, white mustache. "Lady, you and everybody else. And just what very important business are you here for?" His equally scruffy and white eyebrows climbed towards his hairline as he feigned attentiveness.

"Hey—I don't like your attitude!"

"Well, I don't like yours neither. There's a line, you either state what you're here for or leave—take your pick."

Lois huffed indignantly and jutted her thumb in Clark's direction, "He needs a driver's license."

The clerk snorted, "Well, why didn't you say so?" He ignored Lois' outraged countenance and peered up at Clark's towering for, returning the bumbling man's wide smile. "Hello, Sir. Welcome to the Metropolis DMV."

"Thank you," Clark replied with genuine warmth.

"Hey! You never welcomed me!"

Disregarding the tiny woman in front of him, he continued to speak with Clark. "Have you ever had an Illinois license before, Sir?"

"Y-yes."

"Where was it issued?"

"H-here in Metropolis." Lois gave a dramatic roll of her eyes at her partner's stuttering and muttered under her breath, "Dork."

"Have you had a license in any other state?"

"Y-yes. Kansas." Clark could've sworn he heard Lois cover up a 'Farmboy' comment with a well-timed cough. He quickly glanced at her only to find that she was digging through her purse.

"Alright, name please." He tapped a few more keys and stared at the computer screen.

"Clark Kent."

At the mention of his name, the older man's head snapped up from his computer and seemed to really look at Clark for the first time. "Heeey! Like the reporter!"

"Why yes, just like the reporter—I'm Lois Lane by the way." She interjected, sensing an opportunity to flout her minor-celebrity status.

"Good for you." He stood and grasped Clark's hand warmly, pumping it up and down with the vigor of a man half his age. "It is such an honor to meet you, Mr. Kent! Remember that article you wrote at Christmas, the one that kept them from closing the Downtown YMCA? Well, my granddaughter was one of the kids in the photo! She was so excited to see Superman but the look on her face when she saw herself in the newspaper was just magical. I cut it out and put it on the fridge so she could see it every day."

"That's nice, Mr…" Lois craned her neck to look at his badge, "Loomis. Driver's license? Remember?"

"Don't interrupt, Missy; it's rude. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" he admonished harshly.

A snort from Clark's direction as he tried unsuccessfully to contain his laughter served to further incense her. "We are not here to discuss what my mother did or did not teach me, not that it is any of your business anyway. We are here for his driver's license and I will report you to your supervisor if you continue to treat us like this."

"Fine." He glared hostilely at Lois. "Here is your ticket, Mr. Kent. Please have a seat over there and wait until your number is called."

Lois glanced dismally at the indicated waiting area which was currently standing room only. "Can't we get in that line over there?" She pointed at a short line at the far end of the counter.

"Only if you call our 800 number and make an appointment."

Lois pulled out her phone. "Great—what's the number?"

"1-800-METDMV2." She began punching buttons on her phone; the clerk waited until she hit 'send' before continuing with his statement seemingly just to aggravate her further. "Appointments must be made at least 48 hours in advance and are available on Thursdays and Fridays only. Unless you want to come in next week, I suggest you wait."

Glaring at the older man, she flipped her phone shut and made to give him a piece of her mind when Clark quickly interrupted the brewing storm. "Gee Lois, it's not that important. I can make an appointment and come back later. That way we won't have to wait."

"We are NOT leaving until YOU can drive legally. We'll wait." She glared at Mr. Loomis then punched in her speed dial and spoke briefly with Richard, explaining where she'd gone off to and that she'd likely be late getting home.

"It's no trouble, r-really. I can come back at a better time," he cut in while she was still on the line.

In the midst of this, Lois snatched the tear-off number away from Mr. Loomis and stalked to the end of the long line. "We're doing this NOW. If we don't, you're going to come up with one of your famous excuses and several months down the road, we'll end up doing this all over again. I AM NOT going to lose another story just because you're too big of a flake to get a license."

Clark winced as her statement hit home and sighed in defeat when he realized that she wasn't going to give up; he leaned on the wall next to her and figured it wouldn't hurt to throw in his two cents. "Gosh Lois, you could've been nicer to the man."

"So?" She pulled out her phone once more and settled in for the long wait, playing a game of solitaire.

"S-so, as my mother always says: 'You catch more flies with honey…'"

"…than with vinegar.' Yeah, yeah. You've said that before. Now shut up and let me concentrate."

Sensing an opportunity, he left Lois with his number to save their spot and made his way back to the check-in desk to apologize for her behavior and converse further with the interesting man at the front desk.

"Did you see that?!" Lois hissed.

"See what?"

"She just ripped up his test! What was that all about?" She craned her neck to check out the commotion at the front of the room. The young man in front of the counter grabbed his bag and hurried out the door without making eye contact with anyone.

Clark just shook his head and returned to the "Popular Mechanics" magazine opened in his lap. When it became apparent that Lois was not going to let the subject drop, he informed her of what had transpired without looking up from an article about Tesla sports cars. "He had to use the restroom in the middle of his test so he took it with him. The clerk saw him leave and come back and had to rip up his test. He can't reapply for 24 hours."

"What? That's stupid!"

"Unfortunately, it's the rules and we have to abide by them." He deftly pointed at the sign posted above the test-taking counter, still without looking up from his article.

"Oh. Well, I still think it's stupid."

"Now serving B723 at Window 7."

"Finally! I can't believe we had to wait an hour!"

Laughing quietly at her impatience, he snatched the paper number from Lois and made his way to Window 7. "Uh hi."

"Hello, Sir. You're here for a new license, correct?"

"Yes."

She popped a bubblegum bubble in his face. "Name please."

After spending five more minutes going through the same rigmarole as earlier when they'd first arrived, he was given a long, multiple choice test form. When the young clerk crossed through the back, she'd explained that that section was for first-time license applicants only. She directed him to the test-taking area and he sidled up to an empty place at the counter.

Several questions into his test, the sound of crunching metal and screams met his sensitive ears. An out-of-control city bus was careening down the street, the accelerator stuck open. The driver was swerving to avoid pedestrians and cars and frantically laying on the horn. An elderly couple in the back of the bus clutched each other, fervently praying; a mother held her young son tight to her chest as the grocery bag at her feet toppled, sending cans and fruit rolling; adding to the pandemonium was a group of young schoolgirls, all frantically screaming at the top of their lungs. Clark looked at the scene through the wall and then back down at his test then over at the clerk before glancing at Lois. Making his decision, he surreptitiously used super-speed to finish the test, making sure that he didn't burn holes in the paper. He hurried back over the young clerk and stood behind the gentleman at the counter.

Anxious to get to the bus, he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. The clerk noticed this and motioned him up, asking what the problem was. "I've finished my test but I have to use the restroom. Is it alright if I leave it here for grading?"

She looked surprised at the speed with which he'd finished and nodded dumbly while glancing at the clock on the wall. "Thanks!" He glanced around, looking for the best exit before leaving through the front door.

As the door swung shut, he heard the clerk: "Sir! The bathroom is..." but he'd already gone. "That way."

Thirty minutes later, he came back through the front door, adjusting his tie and smoothing his hair down. Saving the bus and all of its passengers only took ten minutes but the officers that responded had asked for his opinion on whether the brakes could've been cut and he'd had to detour by his apartment for a quick shower to rinse the motor oil from his hair. I hope nobody notices I've got a different tie on. He sidled up to Lois, who still sat where he'd left her, oblivious to the fact that he'd left. She was knee deep in an article in 'People' magazine when he returned.

"Geez Clark—that's got to be the longest bathroom break I've ever seen any guy take!"

Okay, maybe not that oblivious.

"Wait, let me guess! You have a phobia of using public restrooms and had to go all the way home to 'go'?"

"Uhh, something like that." That's got to be the most embarrassing excuse for leaving yet. Lois responded by pointing at the line and clearing her throat. He followed her direction and approached Window 7. He spoke briefly with the clerk and made his way back to Lois.

"Well? What's the verdict?"

"I passed. W-we just have to wait over there for the examiner to come back from another test." He pointed to a couple of rundown, faded maroon chairs propped next to an outer door.

"I'm bored!" She whined from her seat next to Clark, "I don't have any more booklets. Isn't that stupid instructor supposed to be here by now?"

"Lois, it's only been," he glanced at his watch, "twenty minutes." His super-hearing chose that moment to kick in and alert him to a bank robbery in progress just down the street. "Uhhh...I have to go, again. I'll be right back!"

"But what about..." He heard her frustrated grumble as the doors swung shut behind him once again.

"Do you smell gunpowder?" She didn't wait for Clark's answer before continuing, "I smell gunpowder." At his shrug, she returned to her booklet and continued drawing beards and glasses on all of the people in the diagrams. Almost as an afterthought, she added: "Oh yeah—I hope you're happy. They called your number while you were visiting the 'facilities'. Since you weren't here, the instructor had to take someone else. It'll be another half hour before your test. You're making me miss Richard's spaghetti."

He piped up to say something in defense, but the rejoinder died on his lips at Lois' unhappy glare. Clark settled for groaning quietly and frowning. Just my luck—sometimes I wonder if I'll ever catch a break.

"Clark Kent?" A deep, bass voice rumbled from the doorway to their left.

Clark scrambled to his feet and came face to face with a broad, middle-aged, dark haired man. "Y-yes?"

"My name's Jack Galindo. I'll be riding shotgun during your exam today." He extended a thick, callused hand and winced only slightly when Clark squeezed a little too hard. "I hope you feel alright, Mr. Kent. Your wife explained where you'd run off to earlier."

"My w-wife? Oh! We're not m-married. This is Lois Lane—she's my work partner."

"My apologies, Miss Lane. It's not often I see co-workers sitting through a license application together."

An unladylike snort punctuated her response, "Well—if you had such a huge flake as a partner, you'd be sitting on him to make sure he applied too." She softened a bit at Jack's surprised look over her harsh tone and continued, "Um, I was wondering if I might be able to tag along too?"

"Weeeeell, I don't usually let anyone else in the car—it's a huge distraction, see? But, seeing as how you're both adults I'll allow it this time…" Lois squealed in delight until the examiner piped up again, "…but only if you're as quiet as a mouse. Not a peep."

"Okay—I'll be quiet, I promise." She jabbed Clark in the ribs when he snorted in disbelief. "Ow! Do you have a Kevlar vest under your coat or something? Geez!" Lois gingerly rubbed her sore elbow.

"Alright folks. If you'll just follow me out this way, we'll get started." Mr. Galindo pushed through the swinging glass door and walked out into the parking lot with Lois and Clark in tow. "So, Mr. Kent, did you have a vehicle to test in today?"

Clark glanced back at Lois. "Don't look at me, Buddy. You are NOT driving my Audi. Period!"

"That would be a 'no', Sir."

"That's alright—I always ask in case someone feels more comfortable driving a car they're familiar with. We've got a couple of testers that we use in cases like this."

Lois opened her mouth to say something to the instructor, but was cut off when Clark rounded the corner and suddenly stopped short. "You've got to be kidding me."

"What's wrong, Smallville?"

"You mean I have to drive that?" He pointed at the small car the examiner was currently unlocking; the silver, early model Toyota Prius looked out of place in the parking lot surrounded by giant gas-guzzling SUVs. With the Metro DMV sticker on the door, it stood out even further.

"What's wrong with it?"

"It looks like a clown car, Lois."

"It looks perfectly fine to me, and I happen to think it's rather cute. Besides, after that article we printed a few years ago about the dangerous greenhouse emissions levels of city vehicles, the Metro DMV went out and picked up a few hybrids." She followed the instructor's suit and climbed into the back seat of the car behind the driver.

Clark opened the driver's side door and warily inspected the seat. From the front passenger seat, the examiner cleared his throat, impatient to get started. When her partner began fiddling with the seat adjustors, Lois asked what he was doing.

"I'm adjusting the seat," he stated succinctly. The seat suddenly slid all the way back, banging into her knees causing Lois to yelp and dive behind the instructor. Once the seat was all the way back, Clark climbed in gingerly. Even so, he found his head brushing the roof so he tilted the seat back as well. Lois stifled a snort and tried to hum "Lowrider" under her breath. At least, that's what Clark thought she was trying to do. When the seat was adjusted to his liking, he moved the steering column as high as it would go, but it still barely cleared his knees. While Clark adjusted the mirrors, the examiner sighed loudly and Lois boldly asked why he was spending so much time adjusting the seat if he was only going to be driving it for ten minutes.

Clark sighed and patiently explained that the automotive industry designs all cars to comfortably fit a 5'11" person, not one who is well over 6'. "Even though we're only going to be in the car for ten minutes, the extra minute that I spend adjusting the seat and mirrors could mean the difference between life and death in an accident." Mr. Galindo quietly agreed and let Clark finish his routine.

At the examiner's instruction, Clark demonstrated use of the blinkers and headlights, awkwardly trying to get used to the cramped space.

At his third sigh of frustration, Lois piped up from the back seat, "You know, Clark, it could be worse. Just think—it could be a stick."

"Ha, ha." He awarded her sharp wit with a perfunctory chuckle as he focused on turning on the car. After receiving a few pointers from Mr. Galindo, Clark finally mastered the art of turning on a hybrid. While letting it idle, Clark stared at the steering wheel, wide-eyed.

"What's wrong?" The examiner looked up from his clipboard at Lois' question and noticed that his driver looked slightly panicked.

"It's too quiet. It shouldn't be that quiet, right? Are you sure it's on?" Mr. Galindo shook his head; he was used to these questions from people that weren't familiar with hybrids. He didn't say anything, instead letting Clark get used to the car on his own.

Lois had no such compunction. "What's the matter, Farmboy? Are you upset it doesn't run like a Deere?"

Before Clark could think about retorting, Mr. Galindo cleared his throat and asked pointedly if he was going to drive or argue with his partner. He slipped the car into gear, backed out of the parking spot and quietly slipped into traffic.

"I-I still think an engine should make some sort of noise even if it is better for the environment. T-that was really creepy!"

"The only thing 'creepy' about our whole trip was you. My grandmother drives faster than you, Creepy McCreeperson."

"I-I do not creep! I'm just cautious—there is n-nothing wrong with that."

"Well, Mr. Kent," the examiner interrupted their sparring, "your test looks good. I'll have to knock a few points off for that right turn you made into the left-most lane on East Bay Blvd but other than that…"

"What?! What do you mean you're docking him for that turn?!" she cried out indignantly, arms waving.

"…you've earned a 92 out of a possible 100 points—congratulations. I'll give your paperwork to the clerk so she can take your photo and you're all set."

"You still haven't answered my question! Why are you docking him for that turn?! There were cars parked in the right-most mmmpfff…." Clark clamped a large hand over Lois' mouth and smiled apologetically at Mr. Galindo, thanking him for the passing grade. Once the examiner was out of ear shot, he let her go. "What the hell did you do that for?! I was going to give him a piece of my mind for not giving you a 97."

"W-well, I…wait, a 97? Why would you only give me a 97?"

"Because you drive like an escapee from the Fort Lauderdale Retirement Park." She smirked at him before turning on her heel and striding back into the building; he just stared after her in a mix of shock and bemusement at her unusual brand of snarkiness. Once he overcame his shock at Lois' retort, he followed her and resumed his seat in the main seating area. Clark leaned over her seated form to collect another magazine when Lois piped up, "That's strange…"

"What's strange?" he asked sitting down and flipping through the publication.

"Your tie looks different."

Oh geez—I thought she hadn't noticed! "Uhhh…it must be the lighting on this side of the office."

"Whatever. Let me know when we get called again." She snatched up another 'People' magazine and quickly lost herself in an article.

Once again, Clark's number was called over the loudspeaker. "Bingo!" Lois cried humorlessly, tired and cranky from being cooped up in the DMV for nearly three hours.

Clark chuckled quietly and made his way up to the appropriate window, his partner following close on his heels.

After examining the requisite paperwork, the third clerk in as many hours instructed him to stand in front of a white screen as she began fiddling with a camera bolted to the counter. The middle-aged woman glanced through the viewfinder, frowned and looked up at Clark. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to remove your glasses."

"M-my glasses? Why? I never had to take them off before."

The middle-aged woman sighed sufferingly and launched into an explanation that sounded as if she'd repeated it thousands of times. "After the terrorist attacks of 9/11, the United States Homeland Security has mandated that all new driver's license or passport photos issued must not contain adornment of any kind. That means no hats, glasses, facial piercings, plugs, smiles..."

"Why is that?"

"It was determined, Sir, that they are a very effective form of disguise. In an attempt to deter terrorists, we have to ask you to take them off."

Looking slightly panicked at the prospect of having to remove his glasses in front of Lois, he glanced in her direction. "Don't look at me, Smallville. It's not like you've got anything to 'disguise'. Just take them off, she'll take your picture and we'll finally be done. It's late and I want to go home."

"You didn't have to stay."

"Yes I did—someone had to make sure you actually did this."

"But..."

"Sir! I have to ask that you remove your glasses, please." Clark started, he'd forgotten about the clerk so absorbed was he in arguing with Lois.

"What's wrong, Clark? You worried that no one would recognize you without your glasses? You probably don't look any different without them."

You'd be surprised, Lois.

"Uh okay." He quickly ran through his options as it was obvious that Lois wasn't going to leave. If I take them off, she might recognize me. Then again, she might not—my hair is different. He determined that it would be best to play it safe and not take his glasses off in front of Lois; if she ever found out about his 'other job', he wanted to actually tell her, and in a much less crowded setting.

"Lois? Uh, isn't that your source from the Belmont case?" He pointed towards the front door; as expected, his partner turned to investigate.

"I can't see."

"Oh, she just went out the front door, you might be able to catch her. Don't worry I'll be fine—I'm just having my picture taken. What could possibly go wrong?" Lois looked at him oddly before hurrying out of the building in pursuit of her quarry. He turned back to the clerk and gave her his best, sheepish grin. "I'm sorry about that."

"That's alright—we'll make this quick, I've got three other people after you then I'm done for the day. Okay, take your glasses off, stand behind the blue line on the floor and keep your back to the white screen. Great." She looked through the viewfinder of the camera and frowned.

"What's wrong?" He kept an ear out for Lois, hoping that she'd given up and gone home.

"You're too tall. I have to adjust the camera." The clerk rummaged around for a small stepstool and he fidgeted on the spot.

"I-it's okay, Miss. I can kneel or sit if that's easier."

"You can't do that—you'll be too close to the camera and it doesn't focus right when that happens. It'll only take a sec to adjust it up."

Almost too late, he heard Lois grumbling under her breath and panicked. "Why are you still here? I thought taking your picture would be a quick thing." As she came into view, Clark slapped his glasses back onto his face.

"He's too tall—I have to adjust the camera up some."

"Oh."

"I thought you might've gone home Lois."

"That's silly—why would I do that? I'm your ride."

"Got it! That's perfect—let me focus it here..." The clerk snapped her head up from the viewfinder and glared at Clark with narrowed eyes. "Sir! Remove your glasses!"

"Uhhh. It's, uhhh…against my religion to take them off."

"Psssht. Trust me, Buddy, I've heard them all. Now take them off or else I'm going to have to call security!"

"Security! What? Why?!" Lois cried indignantly.

The plump lady sighed once again. "I am required by law to report suspicious activity."

"What's so suspicious about having a phobia about removing his glasses? This is oppression, that's what it is." Clark recognized the signs that "Mad Dog Lane" was about to go into attack mode but he was unable to diffuse the situation before she managed to piss off the clerk.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask that you take a seat in the waiting area now! Don't make me call security!"

Lois glared at the blonde lady, her full lips pursed and jaw clenching. She reluctantly resumed a seat in the original seating area not far from Mr. Loomis' station. Clark took the opportunity now that he was alone to remove his glasses and stand in the appropriate place, making sure his hair flopped in his face a bit more than usual. Tired of fighting with him, the lady chose to ignore it—she was obviously just happy that he'd finally removed his glasses.

"Hey... you look awful familiar."

"I-I do?"

"Yeah, you look kind of like..." The clerk shook her head in denial. "Nooo, it can't be." She handed over a slip of paper with his address on it. "Here's your temporary license—the original will be mailed to you in about three weeks. Have a nice evening, Sir."

"Y-yeah. Thanks. You too." Clark quickly turned on his heel and collected Lois on his way out the front door, hastening to get away from the young woman with the camera.

"So...why don't you ever take your glasses off, Clark? I don't think I've EVER seen you without them."

He rubbed the back of his head and spluttered nervously. "Uhhhhh..."

A/N – Poor Clark's little adventure was based loosely upon personal experiences with the DMV, a few horror stories related to me by friends that have lived out of state, Hollywood and my own very fertile imagination.