Champagne Wishes and Clark Dreams

By Erin Karper aka Bee (

Summary: It's the morning after the night before … something … happened. Lois, reeling with a hangover, jumps to conclusions when she finds an apologetic note from Clark.

The idea for this story was born during a rather lengthy IRC session where I spent most of my time in the, um, storm drain (thanks Fleisch, for the new terminology :) so you've been warned. However, I'd still like to thank Lina for starting the whole debauchery thread, and Bev and Reeder for bouncing ideas around with me and encouraging me to write this "quickie." So without further ado…


She was at the dentist's; only this time, they were drilling her head instead of her teeth, and doing it without anesthetic. She could hear the buzzing, growing louder and louder, as the pain intensified in her head. Flinging her arms up to block the drill, she knocked her alarm clock to the floor.

Her eyes opened and the world blurred. She sat up, immediately wished she hadn't, and flopped back down. Finally, she gathered the strength to lurch off the bed and into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, surprised to discover she was wearing only her slip, she croaked, "Lois, you're a wreck. The last time you did this was college, and you vowed it would never happen again."

She managed to make it through a shower and staggered out to the kitchen in her bathrobe, looking for the orange juice to wash down her aspirin. Fuzzily, she noticed a note on the counter. What had happened last night? The last thing she remembered was Clark —

Lois grabbed the note from the counter and read: "The Daily Planet and Lexcorp invite you to their annual Charity Ball…" *other side, Lane, other side!*


Last night was…wild. I didn't mean for it to happen this way, but I guess we both knew it had to happen sometime. I hope, now that this is over, that we can move on in this new stage in our relationship, and I hope that you still respect me. I'll call you later.

Love, Clark

Lois sat down on the floor, hard. *This is not possible! We didn't, I mean, I'd remember _that_… Think, Lois, think. You're an investigative reporter, put the clues together, come on! What do you remember?*

Charity ball. Yes, she remembered that. She and Clark were there, as usual, and as usual Clark had made some lame excuse and handed her off to Perry. She'd been so mad she hadn't even felt like eating (well, she'd had a taste of chocolate mousse, but nothing else) and if Perry hadn't given her a glass to toast the founder of the Planet, she wouldn't have drunk anything, either. The champagne was good, however…

*Champagne…glasses…empty glasses…why are glasses so important?*

Dancing. She'd been dancing with — Jimmy, trying to get him to start a conga line. Then Clark had put his arm around her and tried to lead her off the floor, but she wanted to stay. He'd led her to a table where she'd drunk more champagne, but when she put her glass down half-full, it had been empty when she looked at it. She had looked for more, but Clark kept asking for her car keys, talking about going home.

"Spoilsport. Just because you skipped out on the party doesn't mean I have to…"

More dancing. No, she'd _wanted_ more dancing, but she'd slipped getting up from the table, and Clark had caught her. For some reason, going home had appealed to her then. They were in her car…she'd fallen asleep… or had she?

*I'd have to have been awake. Clark couldn't have carried me up five flights of stairs…so what happened?*

The light. He'd turned it on somehow while she was thinking how nice it was to be in his arms (*I guess he did carry me, then…*) It was too bright, so she'd reached up for the switch…and knocked Clark's glasses off.

*Glasses, glasses. What's so important about them?*

Glasses. He'd almost dropped her, trying to pick them up, but she'd pushed his hand away from his face so she could kiss him. Kissing… she'd smoothed his hair back…

*Nothing after that, no wait, there was something else…*

Her voice, saying, "Clark…you're…super…"

"Oh, NO!" Lois screamed. She read the note again. *But what else could it mean? But it can't be…!*

Despite a splitting headache, she made it to the Planet in record time. Clark met her halfway across the newsroom. Lois was fully prepared to read him the riot act she had composed on the drive over, but when she saw how quiet the newsroom had suddenly become, she grabbed Clark and dragged him off to the supply room.

"Look, Lois, about last night…" he said softly.

"Clark, how could you? I mean, all these years we've been partners, and best friends, and then we were dating, but you never, and I never and _we_ never, and now…I can't believe this!"

"Lois, I'm so sorry. I was as surprised as you were. I didn't want it to be that way. It's all my fault."

"It's just that you…you…I've always trusted you. How could you?"

"I… I don't know. I should've trusted you enough to have told you a long time ago."

"Oh, you told me plenty of things last night, I'm sure! Clark, I was drunk, you could've told me you were Super —"

*Oh my God, it wasn't that _we_ but that _he's_…NO!"

With a speed that was, well, super, Lois swatted the glasses off of Clark's face.

"You…him…we didn't, but I did…and you…" Lois cried, flailing at him. Suddenly she needed to get out of the supply room, and quickly.

"Lois, wait!" Clark yelled, trying to stop her, "We need to talk about this! I think there's been a misunderstanding!"

"Clark, I can't right now!"


"Clark, unless you want a new pattern on your tie, I suggest you let me get to the little reporters room!"

Clark let her go, quickly.

On her way back from the ladies room, she ran into Perry.

"Now, Lois, honey, I know that there's been an awful lot of upheaval in your life lately, and I want to know I'm here for you if you need me…"

"Thanks, Perry," she said, trying to smile. *You don't know the half of it, Perry…now where's that two-timing Kent?*

Work that day was impossible; Lois couldn't concentrate with Clark giving her those puppy dog eyes over his terminal. *Like it's _my_ fault, not his… Oh, all right! I give up!*

She stood up from her desk, strode over to Clark's, grabbed him by the collar, and started dragging him towards the door.


"Come on, whoever you are, we need to talk."

They sat in a secluded corner of the park and Lois Lane finally got the story she had been searching for three years. She relished every detail, even if her own part in it made her angry.

"Clark, I hate to say this, but I'm starving. Could we continue this over dinner?"

"Lois, stay here. I'll be right back."

A blur shot by her — *will I ever get used to this? I guess I'll have to…* — and in no time at all, Clark was back with a picnic basket and a blanket. He unpacked French bread, cheeses, sausage, knives, plates, napkins, glasses, and a familiar looking bottle. Lois lunged for it.

"No, Clark, no more champagne!"

"Relax, Lois, it's sparkling grape juice. We'll save the champagne for another time." He looked at her, silently asking if there would be another time.

Lois reached up and took off his glasses, more gently than before. *I should be ready to _kill_ him, but I'm not. How can I hate the men, er man, I love?*

"Pop the cork, Clark, and let's toast to revelations," she said, putting her arms around his neck. Clark pulled her closer with one arm. As their lips met, she heard the soft pop of the bottle opening and a song echoed in her head; "I get no kick from champagne… mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all… so tell me why should it be true that I get a kick out of you?"