All I Really Want For Christmas

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Merry Christmas!

A huge thank you to all these lovely people for their help with translations for this chapter. I couldn't have done it without you all, so thank you!

JensLuthor

Smarterinabsentia

luthorheda

mizhuin

MoltenGalaxies

AliceSmiler

sogayitwrites

And as always, a huge thank you to my wonderful co-writer, unofficial beta, official BFF, fellow mischief maker and partner in crime DKGwrites too! 

Happy holidays everyone!

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Every burner on the stovetop was covered with a pot or pan, as sauces bubbled and foods sauteed. Heat rose from the oven, the countdown on its timer marking off the remaining moments until the turkey and ham were both cooked to perfection. No less than seven other timers were scattered throughout the country kitchen, each tracking a different food's readiness or another's start time. The kitchen table, the part that wasn't housing half of the spice cabinet (who organizes their spices by country of origin?) was sprinkled with a healthy coating of flour, and the resulting pies sat waiting for their turn in the oven. Color coding was everywhere from the "sign here" tabs sticking out of the cookbook on the counter, each noting a different recipe for the day, to the dozens of sticky notes with instructions for each stage in the process. It was organized chaos, each note, timer, and pan part of a complex orchestration, the kind of organized chaos in which Lois thrived. But although this took place in the Kent kitchen in Smallville, Kansas, Lois wasn't the chef today. And Lena was not made for mayhem.

A buzzer rang, and Lena's head turned left and right in search of the alarm alerting her of the next stage in this ten-ring circus that was Christmas meal prep. She abandoned the sauce she'd been stirring, tapping the spoon on the edge before practically tossing it to the spoon rest on the center of the stove. She quickly found the offending timer and its accompanying sticky note which declared... Jesus, where was the Rosetta Stone when you needed it? Lois' handwriting was like hieroglyphics.

Lena snapped a quick pic of the note and activated the AI in her priority smartwatch to provide translation. After a handful of seconds, it chirped. "This is of no known modern language. Accessing Sumarian and Babylonian databases."

Lena tossed the sticky note to one side and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Couldn't use one of the countless apps designed by highly intelligent, highly organized people just for this purpose could you, Lois? It had to be old school, the way your mother did it."

Lena sighed but shrugged off her moment of weakness when yet another timer sounded. She rushed to answer it, tripping and careening toward the sink. She managed to grab the edge and narrowly avoided toppling the tower of dirty dishes there.

"Motherfucker." Lena glared down at Moody and Krypto who both cowered, Krypto whimpering under her glare. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd stumbled over the mooching duo. Though Moody saved her a step by consuming all of the food waste she'd otherwise have to trash or compost, both animals had proven to be more of a liability than a help. Lena would be damned if her wife came back from a peacekeeping mission in the Middle East to find her dead on the kitchen floor with dinner ruined. "Out!"

Moody's color shifted to dark green, as they wrapped their tails underneath them. Next to them, Krypto hunkered lower, and his whining increased.

"No. No sad puppy eyes this time. I've had it with both of you. You're going outside." She marched to the front door and pulled it open, pointing toward the yard. "Neither of you is to come back in until food prep is done. Now get."

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