Prompt Post - Part Three [CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS]
THIS PART IS NOW CLOSED. YOU CAN CONTINUE POSTING FILLS, BUT PLEASE PROMPT ALL NEW THINGS HERE.
Part one here!
Part two here!
Feel free to reprompt posts from parts one and in part three once. If you do so, I'd reccommend leaving a link to your fill on the original prompt, in case somebody is tracking the first thread.
Please note that you can still ( Read more... )
“Is that so?” Lois asked around a mouthful of noodles.
“Except when he thinks I’m not looking,” Conner said, frowning. “Jimmy says he’s kind of shy.”
“Some people are shy,” Lois replied. “Pass the chicken?”
“Jimmy doesn’t have superhearing,” he said, handing it over. His frown turned thoughtful. “Those glasses aren’t as good a disguise as you think.”
Lois couldn’t help it; she set her chopsticks down and threw her head back laughing.
--
From: C.Kent@dplanet.net
To: L.Lane@dplanet.net
Subject: Is he adjusting okay?
The body of the e-mail was blank. Lois raised one eyebrow. She pushed her chair back her from desk, leaning around the partition until she could see Clark. He smiled sheepishly and waved at her. She rolled her eyes.
She fired back a quick reply: Fine, aside from the fact that my home computer is now plastered in cat macros. You could ask him yourself.
There was no immediate reply.
Two hours later Lois returned from lunch and found a new e-mail waiting for her.
From: C.Kent@dplanet.net
To: L.Lane@dplanet.net
Subject: Conner
I don’t know what I’d say
Lois frowned at the screen. She ripped a piece of paper off her pad and scribbled her reply, then wadded it up and took aim at Clark’s head. It hit him square in the nose and bounced off, landing on his desk. She watched as he smoothed it out.
You could start by saying “hi.”
--
That night, Lois taught Conner how to break and enter, which was important, she explained, for truth, justice and front page stories. He seemed to understand, and if he didn’t he had at least gotten very good at pretending he did.
He was also great at holding a flashlight.
“I was thinking,” he said.
“Little higher,” she said, flapping a hand at him. He shifted the flashlight so it shone into the back of the drawer. “Go on.”
“Jimmy showed me a picture,” he said, “of you and Superman. And there’s the picture of the two of you in your apartment. You look… close.”
“If you’re trying to imply something, the answer is yes,” Lois said. She snagged the document she had been looking for with a triumphant noise and held it up for Conner to see.
He barely spared it a glance.
“Does that make you my mother?” he asked, and Lois promptly fell backwards, her elbow knocking into the desk. Some expensive, kitschy knick-knack slid off it and shattered when it hit the floor. The alarms started to blare.
Lois grabbed the paperwork, and Conner, and made a run for it.
Later, sitting in a parking lot six blocks away with the papers spread out between them and the car to their backs, she turned to him.
“If anything, I’d be your step-mother,” she said. “But I’m not, because your dad and I aren’t married.”
“Okay,” he said, smiling. She had the feeling that her words had gone in one ear and right out the other. She huffed and asked him to pass her the files; it wasn’t hurting anything, letting the kid feel like she was family. Besides, it made her a little happy to see him smile.
Reply
Leave a comment