When the Snitch Didn't Snitch

By DSDragon <DASWillow783@gmail.com>

Rated G

Submitted: July 2006

Summary: Lois learns that even Bobby Bigmouth can keep a secret.

Author's Notes: This is just a bit of fluff I thought of at random at midnight on a Saturday/Sunday. In the back of my mind, I think I was kind of lamenting the fact that Bobby Bigmouth (my favorite recurring L&C bit character) had only been in one episode of third season. Not to mention, Bobby usually seems to know everything, so I figured, why DOESN'T he?

*This little vignette is set during the third season episode "… We Have a Lot to Talk About."*

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the settings in this fanfic. I only own the idea. The rest belongs to Warner Brothers.


"What? How? When? Why didn't you—? How many other—?" Lois couldn't seem to finish a single question, and it was no wonder, what with the bombshells Bobby Bigmouth had just dropped on her.

"How did I know about which?" the snitch taunted her in her own living room.

"Both!" she spluttered.

"You say both, but I think you mean all three, so I'll humor you," he said. "First, I was walking through the Jewelers' District the other day, and I saw Clark coming out of one of the stores. Went up to say, 'Hey, how you doing?' and he got this 'deer-in-the-headlights' look, like he wasn't expecting to be seen there and didn't want me to know what he'd been doing. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together—especially those of us who know about you two."

Pointedly looking to Lois's left, Bobby said, "Although, I wonder …"

"I'm still thinking about it," Lois interrupted snippily.

"Okay then, the answer to your third question—don't worry, I'll get to the second in a minute," Bobby continued before Lois could protest. "The third, how did I know you knew the second? I haven't heard you complain about a certain tendency of Clark's since I got here this evening—not to mention for the last couple of weeks—and figured he must've told you."

"Actually," Lois managed to interject, "I figured it out myself."

"That explains why you're not wearing the ring then, and even brings us back to number two," Bobby said with a nod. "So did I—as soon as you introduced me to Clark, which is the answer to number four. You might not have noticed, since you see him every day, but when he's not 'in public,' so to speak, there's this sense of great power under careful restraint that comes off of him in waves. I'm surprised more people don't notice, actually. That's five."

"And you didn't see fit to TELL me that?" Annoyance seemed to be winning out over her flustered manner of a few minutes ago now. She paced back and forth in front of him, flinging her arms up in frustration

"Ah, moving right along to six. To tell the truth, Lois, at first I thought you already knew," the snitch seemed embarrassed to admit to a lack of knowledge. "But once I found out you didn't, I figured it wasn't my place to tell. As for your last question, frankly, Lois, I'm a bit hurt that you think so little of me."

Lois stared at him, arms crossed at her "favorite" informant's last statement.

"Hey," Bobby protested, flinging his arms wide, "I may be a Bigmouth, but even for Peking Duck I don't snitch on Superman."

Flustered once again, Lois nonetheless managed to chivvy Bobby out of her apartment and get back to the task at hand. Before she went to investigate Joe le Blow, however, she needed to make a phone call.


"Hey, Clark?" Lois broached the topic after their investigation into the Churches, as she floated over the clouds with her boyfriend the next evening. "Have you ever played 'Ding-Dong, Ditch?'"

Eyebrows furrowed and wondering why she'd interrupted such a nice mid-air make-out session, Clark replied, "Not really—there aren't enough places to hide out in the country near enough to a neighbor's door to ditch it effectively. But I know the gist of the game. Why?"

Telling Clark about her earlier conversation with their favorite snitch, Lois outlined her plan. They floated together a little longer before drifting toward the Earth to implement it.


The next night, Bobby Bigmouth was surprised when he heard a knock at his door. He wasn't expecting anyone, so he warily looked out the front window of his small street-side apartment. He didn't see anyone nearby, but he opened the door anyway, wiping some chilidog grease from his hand so that he could grip the knob properly.

Poking his head into the night air, he looked around. Still not seeing anyone, he started to bring his head in, noticing only by chance as he happened to lower his head that there was something on the stoop.

Bobby opened the door wider to get a better look at the package. In the dim glow of the nearest streetlight—which was at least a block away, since he lived in one of the seedier parts of town—he saw Chinese characters in red ink on white paper.

Funny, he didn't remember ordering Chinese. Always of the opinion that food should not be left to waste, the snitch bent to pick up the package. It was then that he noticed—no, it couldn't be!

Inhaling deeply, yet unable to believe what his nose was telling him until he'd seen it for himself, Bobby opened the rolled-up end of the bag and looked inside. It was! Someone had gotten him Peking Duck!

Just then, something fell to the ground with a light "snick."

Looking down again, careful to keep his package of duck level so he wouldn't lose any of the juices inside, Bobby bent to pick up the envelope that he hadn't noticed sitting on top of the bag.

It was a plain envelope, and felt thick, like maybe it held a greeting card. Whoever had delivered it must have known he would come to the door right away, too, because they hadn't bothered to put his name on either package. Moving back inside, he set the duck on his end table, shoving the last of the chilidog in his mouth before opening the envelope.

"Thanks," the card inside proclaimed in scripted letters over a tasteful, yet somehow not-girly background. He wondered what he'd done to deserve such a large show of gratitude, but he couldn't think of anything in the past week, so he opened to the inside of the card.

All he found was four hand-written characters, in two different sets of handwriting, written large enough to fill one side of the card:




So that was why he couldn't find anyone around before, he mused. They were probably still watching him through his own roof—or at least HE was, with Lois bugging him for commentary the whole time, probably.

With a smile, Bobby looked up and said out loud, "Don't mention it."


Author's Note: The full title of this vignette is actually, "When the Snitch Didn't Snitch (He Got His Reward)," but I figured if I put the subtitle at the top it might give everything away, and the muse felt like being a bit coy during the (very early) morning that I wrote it.

Feedback is greatly appreciated. Please e-mail me at DASWillow783@gmail.com, or go to the feedback thread (http://www.lcficmbs.com/cgi-bin/boards/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=1&t=005468) on the message board for this story.