By ML Thompson <thomplaw@tbaytel.net>
Rated G
Submitted July 2000
Summary: Set during the episode "Green Green Glow of Home," Lois wanders into the barn while Clark is doing his morning chores — and she ends up helping.
This is just a piece of fluff. It was originally a scene in a story that I wrote. However, afterwards I decided I didn't like the story enough to post it. The problem was that I did like this one scene. So, I rewrote it to make it into an incident that happened one morning during the episode, 'The Green Green Glow of Home' when Lois and Clark were in Smallville.
If at some point in the future, I do decide to post the whole story, you will have to forgive me for giving you this scene now. ***
The sun was just coming up when Clark grabbed a bucket and milking stool. Moving over to the right side of the old jersey cow, he set down the stool. A deep guttural whistle escaped his lips as he positioned himself on it. After quickly and expertly cleaning the udder, he took a seat on the stool, fixing the bucket firmly between his knees. He placed his head gently against the side of the cow to let her know he was there and what he was about to do. Using his heat vision to warm his hands, he gently reached under Betsy and taking two diagonal teats in his hands, started a rhythm.
Squirt squirt, squirt squirt, squirt squirt, squirt squirt.
The cats carefully positioned themselves nearby, desperately trying not to look too eager — and failing. As the reward for their patience, Clark would occasionally direct a stream of milk in their direction and then chuckle as he watched them leap for it.
Lois wandered into the barn, catching a glimpse of Clark milking the cow.
"So, this is where you got to," Lois said, disturbing the rhythm he had set. Betsy gave a stomp of disapproval.
"Just give me a moment," said Clark, returning to his task. For a few moments the only sound was the regular rhythm of milk being squirted into a bucket. Lois stared in fascination at the muscles in Clark's arms as they moved under his skin while he milked the cow.
Once the sound of milk in the bucket waned, Clark got up.
"Come here," he said to Lois, indicating the stool.
"Oh, I can't," responded Lois, taking an unconscious half step back.
Clark raised an eyebrow. "Scared of a cow?" he asked.
Lois raised her chin and met his eyes dead on. Lois Lane was not afraid of anything — particularly not a cow. "Move," she demanded, moving in beside the cow to take a seat on the stool.
Clark smiled and stood back.
"Where's the bucket?" Lois demanded.
Clark handed her a new bucket, not wanting to risk the milk in the bucket he had.
Lois gave an indignant sniff before attempting to imitate what Clark had done earlier. She took her thumb and index finger and gave a quick pull down on one of the teat. No milk came out.
"It's empty," she announced, rising from the stool relieved.
Clark roared with laughter.
"What?!" Lois asked.
He shook his head slightly before coming in behind her. "Sit," he said gently. Seeing no way out of this, she followed his instructions. He gently picked up the stool she was sitting on and moved it a bit further under Betsy. When Betsy gave a disapproving noise, Clark repeated the deep whistle. The sound made Betsy calm — and caused Lois to involuntarily shiver. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the heat of Clark's body as he knelt down directly behind her. She swallowed hard, determined not to notice the signals her body was beginning to send her.
"Okay, first, lay your head on Betsy's side. It lets her know where you are. And it really is more comfortable," Clark instructed. Lois hesitated before laying her head on the soft fir on Betsy's side. Clark reached down and picked up the bucket she had set under the cow. He raised it to her knees. "Spread your knees," he said.
"What?!"
"Umm… It's just that you need to hold the bucket between your legs so that Betsy doesn't decide to kick it over."
"Does she do that often?" Lois asked, jumping back a bit, suddenly conscious of the fact that she was very close to this big animal. Of course, the action made her acutely aware that she was also very close to the animal behind her.
"Lois, relax," Clark said, being mindful of how close her jump back had placed them. When she did relax, he put the bucket in front of her legs again. This time she moved her knees apart and he slid the bucket between them. "Okay, next we need to warm your hands," Clark said, taking her hands in his. "Betsy gives her milk easier if your hands are warm."
Lois allowed him to warm her hands. In fact, she felt somewhat powerless to stop him. He had wrapped his arms around her from behind to accomplish this task. She leaned back slightly bringing her back into contact with him. For a moment, his hands stilled.
Clark cleared his throat in an attempt to also clear his mind. If he didn't know better, he would almost think that she had leaned into him on purpose. However, he didn't move away. "Okay, the next step is to begin milking. Just think of this as a massage."
"You want me to massage a cow?"
Clark laughed. He took her hands again and placed them on the two teat he had not yet milked. "The reason there was no milk before was because you were touching a teat that I had already finished milking. Well, that and the way you did it. Okay, wrap your hand around these two teat," Clark said, directing her hands on to the cow. He covered her hands with his own. "Now, the thing to do here is to squeeze slightly with the upper part of your hand while running your hand slightly down the teat. Like this," Clark applied firm but gentle pressure to her hand and pulled it down. A small stream of milk squirted into the bucket. "Then, as you are moving this hand back up, you do the same thing with the other hand," he told her while directing the other hand.
For a few moments the only sound in the barn was the sound of milk hitting tin as Lois' hands, under Clark's, milked the cow.
"So, do you do this often?" Lois asked.
"Milking?" Clark asked. "It was one of my chores growing up. I do it now whenever I'm home."
"No, I mean teaching people how to milk."
"Oh… Well, Mom and Dad have a group of teenagers out here every summer. They come from troubled homes and my folks figure getting them out of the city on to the farm for a little while might help. Whenever I'm here, I teach milking."
"Girls or boys?"
"What?"
"The kids that come out here, are they girls or boys?"
"Both," said a confused voice from behind her.
"And is this how you teach milking?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Lois smiled. "Let me guess, the girls enjoy the lessons more then the boys."
"Well… yeah. The girls seem to like the animals more. The boys like the machinery."
Lois didn't respond, although she couldn't keep the grin off her face. She didn't think the desire of the girls to learn to milk had anything to do with the animals. She was equally aware that Clark hadn't put two and two together. They lapsed into silence.
Squirt squirt, squirt squirt, squirt squirt, squirt squirt.
Lois was no longer paying any attention to the cow. All she knew was the startling sensation that being firmly in Clark's arms was producing in her. She hadn't felt anything like this since… since… She tensed slightly as she thought about the last time she had felt this. It was when she was in Superman's arms. How could this feel so much the same? It did briefly occur to Lois to move away. But she couldn't seem to make herself do it. Finally, she relaxed in his embrace, closing her eyes and revealing in the feeling of warmth behind her. She refused to think about where this was going. All she knew was she didn't want it to stop.
Clark was very conscious of the woman in his arms. His head was by her cheek. Her hair was brushing against the side of his face. She smelled so good. It was taking every bit of self control he possessed to keep from kissing her neck. He tried, and failed, to concentrate on the task of milking the cow. The increase in Lois' heart rate was all but drowned out by the beating of his own heart. He had never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted the woman in his arms.
Squirt squirt, squirt squirt, squirt squirt, squirt squirt.
A short time later, Lois felt her hands and arms begin to cramp with the unfamiliar task. She slipped her hands out from under Clark's. When he started to move away in response, she grabbed his hands and moved them back on to the cow's teats, keeping his arms on either side of her body. Her arms were sore, but when he began to pull back, she panicked. Without thinking about what she was doing, or the possible repercussions, she grabbed his hands and moved them back, unwilling to allow him to release her from his grasp.
As he began to milk again, her hands seemed to gain a mind of their own — although for months afterwards she would wonder why she had done it. She began running her hands over the back of his. Then her hands began to move over his lower arms.
Clark let out a short breath. "Lois," he breathed into her ear.
She melted at the guttural sound of his voice. Her mind kept trying to tell her to back off, to push out of his arms. Still, she didn't do it. And all the time, the regular rhythm of milk squirting into a bucket continued.
"Clark, Lois," came a woman's voice. "Are you two out here?"
Both Lois and Clark jumped. Fortunately, Clark caught the bucket from between Lois' legs before it spilt the milk. They swiftly moved away from one another.
"Over here, Mom," Clark said, as Martha came around the corner.
"I just wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready," Martha said, before stopping and looking at the guilty expressions on the faces of her son and his partner.
Lois cleared her throat. "Oh, Martha, thanks." She quickly headed past Martha, toward the house.
"Are you coming, Clark?" Martha asked.
"I just need to strip the cow, Mom. Then I'll be right there," Clark said, knowing that he couldn't stop milking until he had completely emptied Betsy's udder.
"Okay. Don't take too long. Breakfast is getting cold."
Lois got outside the barn and leaned against the wall for a moment. What did she think she was doing in there? She didn't have romantic feelings for Clark. She was in love with Superman. She rebuked herself for being so totally irresponsible as she made a mad dash for the house.
THE END
Thanks to my father for explaining to me the finer points of milking a cow. My only experience was as a very young child at my grandparent's e — and if I recall correctly, I couldn't make any milk come (my hands were too small and I didn't have enough strength).