Not that kind of prize

[_loislane_]

In the years since they met, Clark Kent has been exposed to any number of screams from the woman who is now his wife: joy, triumph, anger, delight, fear, outright terror.

The one emanating from the direction of their bedroom is in a category all its own.

Comments

[_man_of_steel_]

Clark had been at the front of the building when he heard the scream. As he entered the door, he raced up the steps at a very un-Clark like speed, hoping no one was actually *TAKING* the steps today.

The door burst open. "LOIS!" he called out.

[_loislane_]

Lois is standing on the cool tile of the master bathroom's floor, barefoot. Disheveled.

Catatonic, almost.

[_man_of_steel_]

Superman, for now, becomes Clark again. He walks over to the bathroom.

"Lois? Honey? What's wrong?"

[_loislane_]

Lois blinks. Clark's there.

Clark's there.

Clark.

"YOU did this!" she states, poking his sternum with a slender plastic stick and its rectangle of paper, which shows two thin lines of blue.