"Pineapple?"

Clark barely refrained from wincing at Lois's horrified expression. She was looking at him like he told her she was an alien, or how he feared she might look at him- in fact, she had been enthused about that particular revelation. This one, on the other hand, wasn't going down as well.

"It's good," he protested. "Have you had Hawaiian pizza?"

"It's pineapple," Lois said, making sure to put emphasis on the word that had so clearly offended her. "Fruit doesn't belong on pizza."

He wrinkled his nose. "Well technically, tomatoes ..."

"Don't start with me, Smallville," she interrupted, huffing. She wandered off to the phone, pizza menu in hand. "I can't believe I'm going to marry a man who likes pineapple on his pizza." She pointed the phone at him, almost in warning. "But you're getting your own pizza! I will not have your pineapple contaminating my meat." She paused. "That sounded less dirty in my head."

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked. "Since when has that stopped you?"

"Whatever, pineapple lover," Lois said, but she was smiling. She gave him a thorough once over, and he found himself straightening under her gaze. "We can talk about other types of collaborations ... after."

"Can't wait," Clark said, grinning, as she went off to make their dinner order. He could hear her mutter 'pineapple' under her breath, and he let out a small laugh.

One thing was for certain: he couldn't wait to marry her.