A New Pair of Jeans - Sarahbookjunkie (read me a book txt) 📗

For the life of him, Clark couldn’t accurately describe how he was feeling at 12.39pm that Wednesday afternoon. Annoyed, curious, amused, anxious, uncertain, annoyed….
The reason for his emotional turmoil was that Lois had taken eighteen pairs of jeans with her into the changing room.
Eighteen

pairs of jeans.
And they only had an hour for lunch.

Clark had been shopping with Lois before. He knew what happened when Lois went shopping.

The Lois Lane guide to buying clothes

Drag Clark into a ladies clothes shop and embarrass him by stopping at the lingerie section first. Tease Clark relentlessly about said lingerie. Go on hunt for specific item of clothing. Realise desired item is in four different colours and six different sizes. Bring one of each colour to the changing room. Yell through the door at Clark for a different size. Berate Clark for bringing the wrong colour. Emerge from changing room and ask Clark’s opinion. Ignore Clark’s opinion. Use camera phone to take photos of each item and compare them. Annoy Clark to the point of being strangled by trying the item on again. Tap foot and frown at Clark’s arm for seven minutes trying to decide whether or not to buy the item. Remain indecisive. Notice different item at the other end of the shop and swoop on it at a speed previously known only to Kryptonians. Destroy all of Clark’s remaining patience by discovering new item comes in seven different colours. Repeat process.

And she called him

picky because he wore the same tie two days in a row?

This time was much, much

, worse because Lois was trying on jeans. Lois was very particular about her jeans.

Clark looked at his watch. 12.43pm. Yup, he was gonna have to be the one to explain to their editor why they were late and why the article Clark was supposed to have finished by lunchtime was nowhere near finished. He was never getting promoted.

He glanced at the door of the changing room. Lois had probably discounted at least three pairs of jeans by now on the grounds that they were the wrong shape/size/colour/didn’t match her boots. It was remarkably quiet – no yells at him to go find a different size. Maybe he should use his x-ray vision to check that she was alright.

On second thoughts, checking would turn into ogling which would turn into setting the shop on fire. He’d already zoned out once today thinking about Lois and thongs. Was she wearing one-

Clark halted that train of thought before it went any further. What would

his mother say?

Not that Clark Kent had any intention of letting his mother know that he was becoming the most perverted Kryptonian to have ever walked the earth.

He sighed. It had all started out so well. At 12.25pm, just like she always did, Lois asked him what they were doing for lunch as she was rummaging round her messy desk for the notes she was always losing. Clark didn’t answer her right away for three reasons – 1. He was choosing his words carefully. 2. If she asked him again she would look up at him, and he really wanted her to look at him. And 3. She’d caught him in the middle of musing on how lovely her hair looked in the sunlight. Five seconds later, Lois looked up and said “Clark. Lunch” in a tone of voice that indicated she thought he wasn’t hanging on her every word. Little did she

know.

Leaning forward slightly for emphasis, Clark poured every last drop of quiet sincerity into the words “I want to buy you a new pair of jeans”.

And was he rewarded? Was he heck. The sparkle in her eyes and the beaming smile that stretched across her face made his stomach do back-flips and his heart race. Note to Clark: offer to buy Lois jeans more often.

He looked at his watch again. 12.47pm. At this rate they weren’t going to get any lunch, and shopping with Lois always made him hungry. He walked over to the door of the changing room. Using his normal hearing, he could hear Lois moving around. Maybe he could use his super-hearing to hear what she was really doing – cursing under her breath or muttering about the size of the jeans or pulling the fabric up her le-

He knocked on the door and called out “Lois?” “You can’t come in, Smallville, I’m not decent” she called back. “I wasn’t coming in, I ju- Lois” he warned. She giggled, and the sound made Clark’s stomach flutter. How did she do

that? “I thought I could go get some lunch for us while you’re in there?” He waited. And waited. Lois’s muffled reply came back, “Good thinking, Batman”. Clark rolled his eyes and asked “What do you want?” Me. You want me. Pick me!

he thought. He was pathetic. Like she could hear what he was thinking. Lois cursed and he was tempted to ask if she was alright, but the insult he would get back wasn’t worth it. Plus, his stomach was rumbling. “Lois?” “Ummm…surprise me Smallville”. He chuckled and walked out of the shop and round the corner, towards Lois’s favourite deli.

The sunshine warmed Clark’s face as he stepped outside. The city was so alive, a constant hum of life and movement and activity. It was a lot like Lois, now he thought about it. He listened intently for any police sirens or reports over the radio, in case his help was needed. There was nothing – maybe the city was giving him a little bit of karma and allowing him time to appreciate the finer points of Lois Lane. He could live with that.

Megan waved at him from behind the counter as he walked into the deli. Clark smiled back – she knew him and Lois pretty well, seeing as they were in here all the time. As he stood in line, he wondered what Lois would like for lunch. Well, she’d had a big breakfast (thanks to yours truly) and it had been a relatively slow morning at the Planet, plus she’d eaten a doughnut with her coffee, so she might not want much to eat. On the other hand, she was trying on jeans, so she was probably hungry by now. It was a sunny day, so she wouldn’t want a heavy lunch, but they were going to the police station later, so she would need something filling. Hmmm.

By the time he got the counter, Clark still hadn’t decided. Certain personality traits belonging to Lois were rubbing off on him, apparently. Megan grinned at him. “Hey Clark, Lois send you in for lunch again?” He smiled. “She’s trying on jeans and I thought I would get us both something to eat. Could be a while.” Megan nodded in understanding. Clark had once stood here and listened to a conversation between Lois and Megan on the importance of a good pair of jeans.

It went on for twenty five minutes.

He glanced at the food on offer and made a decision. “I’ll have a sesame seed bagel with salad covered in Thousand Island dressing, chicken and a little bit of cheese. And can I have mayo on the bagel instead of butter… and can you make sure the tomatoes are sliced real thin? And not too much cheese, but make sure it’s around the chicken and not near the dressing. And no red lettuce in the salad.” Megan blinked as he reeled his request off. To her credit, she wrote it all down without a word of complaint. “And for you?” she asked, as though dreading the answer. Clark considered that for a minute. He was in the mood for a burrito. He could run to Mexico for a couple and be back before Megan had finished making Lois’s bagel. “I’ll be alright, thanks” he told her. She breathed a sigh of relief and got to work.

~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t until Clark was almost at the jeans shop, bag of burritos in one hand and Lois’s testament to modern art that was her enormous bagel in the other, that he realised he hadn’t got Lois any coffee. She would kill

him if there was no coffee. He changed direction and headed for the coffee stand just down the street. It was a work day, so she would probably want it black with no sugar. There was a line at the coffee stand. Clark looked at his watch again. 12.58pm. Hopefully Lois had tried on at least half of the jeans she considered as acceptable options.

He got to the front of the line and noticed a plate of baked goods. What would Lois like? She’d had a doughnut today already so she wouldn’t want another one. Yesterday she told him she had gone off apple turnovers, due to eating three in one morning, so that was out. All that was left was a triple chocolate muffin. Lois liked those, as he recalled. If she didn’t want to eat it after lunch, she could always have it for her post-lunch, pre-dinner, after coffee, snack break. On the other hand, if she was still hungry and decided to eat it now, he would have to get her something else for 3pm. What was in that box of goodies circulating the basement this morning? Oh, bear claws. He would keep one of those for her when they got back, just in case.

A cleared throat got his attention. The vendor was giving him a funny look, and Clark realised he’d been staring at the muffin for the best part of five minutes. “You on a diet or something?” Clark shook his head. “No, I just couldn’t decide what to get.” The man raised an eyebrow.

Clark felt like an idiot. Who spent five minutes deciding whether or not to get to buy a muffin?

The man who would be on the receiving end of Lois Lane’s smile when presenting said muffin to her, that’s who.

By the time Clark finally reached the jeans shop, his stomach was protesting loudly. He tapped on the changing room door and called out “Lois, I’m back”. He heard her say, slightly breathlessly, “’k Smallville, I’ll be five…eight…TEN minutes”. He chuckled again. Lois’s estimates were always optimistic at best. He sat down on the bench facing the changing room and munched happily on his burritos as other customers milled around the shop. Every now and then he would listen intently for sirens or cries for help. The city was quiet today.

His burritos finished, Clark had nothing left to do except wait on Lois. It was 1.13pm but his worries about getting back to the Planet on time had disappeared. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and literally twiddled his thumbs as he traced the pattern on the floor in front of him. Eventually the door of the changing room opened and Lois stepped out. He was about to tease her that it actually took her twelve minutes when the words died in his throat.

Clark’s eyes took in the pointy toes of her boots and the fabric of the jeans that went up and up and up and up her legs. Had they always been that long

? The jeans widened at her hips and then stopped. The jeans hung low. A tiny sliver of her stomach was visible between the jeans and her shirt. His eyes travelled upwards and he tried really hard not to pause for a split