summary: clark kent is great boyfriend when he shows up— but that’s if he does. whether it’s staying late at work or not answering texts for hours on end, there is always something that ends up getting in the way. but one day, he shows up when you least expect it. one day, he shows up when he shouldn’t.
pairing: david!clark kent x fem!reader
content warnings: 18+, established relationship, not entirely movie timeline accurate, the reader doesn’t know that clark is superman, sweet fluffy smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it up for real, ok?) why yes clark is neurodivergent thank you for asking!!!, clark is a very mediocre liar and is really lucky his gf takes his words at face value (for the most part), graphic descriptions of injury, a bit of angst, happy ending!
word count: 10.3k (roughly edited)
clark kent was an odd guy.
you’d known that from the moment you met him. well, you had bumped into him more so than you did meet him, per say. you took the same train into work. seeing him was an every day occurrence unless one of you were sick.
he was a reporter. you figured that out when you saw him walk into the daily planet, arms full of papers and his hair a mess. did he ever brush it? no, you concluded as you saw him get onto the train with unkempt, curly hair nearly every single morning.
he was odd, always a bit out of step, but he was kind. so kind that it was a bit sickening. you had seen him help an elderly man onto the train when his walker gave him a hard time. he politely asked people to move for a pregnant lady who was trying to be discreet and not cause any issues by asking other passengers to get up. he’d made silly faces at a fussing baby when he thought no one was looking. the train filled with bubbling laughter almost as sweet as the dimpled smile you’d seen light up his handsome face.
it took a few accidental shoulder brushes on the train and same walk down the crowded, busy streets of metropolis for him to realize that you were apart of his daily routine. once he noticed yo, though? it was was the beginning of something so, so beautiful—something you’d never had with another person.
it started with smiles. soft ‘hey, good morning.’s were shared. so were the ‘fancy seeing you here.’ and ‘do you come here often?’ quips. of course, there was the occasional ‘are you stalking me?’ joke you would make that was always answered with a blunt ‘yes…’ from him that made you laugh.
you learned his name and he learned yours. you and clark sat next to each other on days there were seats available, legs touching as you shared in soft, causal conversation and lingering looks. most of the time; though, there weren’t any seats, which meant that you were a bit too close to his side as the train swayed. despite all the stuff he lugged to work with him each morning, his hand always found its way to the small of your back when you wobbled.
you did it on purpose. you rode the train enough. you were an expert. you were only ever clumsy around him. it was intentional and he knew it. he was hoping you’d never stop.
at some point, you started holding hands on your wall to work. well, you linked arms. with all the stuff he carried with him it made it a bit difficult to hold hands, but he found ways to touch you as frequently as you found ways to touch him. he started kissing you on the cheek before he hurried into work. shortly after, you began to rise onto your tippy toes to meet him halfway and kiss his in return.
you aligned lunch breaks when you finally exchanged phone numbers. nearly every day he was waiting for you right the office building you worked in. you were a boring secretary and he was clark kent, the man who interviewed superman. in your head, he was the coolest person in the world. the most gentlemanly, too. he made sure to have you walk on the inside of the side walk. he opened doors for you. he paid for every meal.
you didn’t know it at the time, but he thought you were cool, too.
there was a never a serious conversation about dating. no big question. no large confession because the love you shared had blossomed between you so vibrantly— so palpably. one day, his toothbrush had made as much of a home beside yours in the cup on the sink as his boxers did in your laundry basket with your panties. saying ‘i love you’ was just as easy as waking up beside him.
what wasn’t easy was how often clark was absent.
it wasn’t ever long enough to confront him about. it wasn’t like he was gone for days at a time. it was small moments that he missed. he canceled dates at the last minute. he always said it had something to do with work. it was easy enough to believe. most of the late nights he was missing from your side were spent interviewing superman. it was hard to think it was anything else when you saw the proof of it in ink the next day on the cover of newspaper.
clark kent was too good of a man to cheat. you knew that. the thought had only crossed your mind a few times in the beginning it did. of course, it did. any sane person would think their boyfriend was cheating on them with how often clark went awol on you… but it was an easy thing to put to bed a little more than a year into dating him since he crawled his way into your sheets even at the latest of hours.
and he always found his way back to you.
you had to admit that the thing he had going on with his glasses was weird though. he slept with them on. he showered with them on. he never took them off even when you nagged that they were going to dent his nose and sink into his eyes. he would laugh, say ‘no, they won’t, honey,’ and kiss you to shut you up.
you speculated early on that he was on the spectrum — even before you started dating — and he proved that more than once. he was quirky. he had his little habits, like the thing with never taking off his glasses and the fact that he couldn’t sleep with socks on. he never swore. ever. you hadn’t heard him curse once. he liked to collect bottle caps and magnets. and he knew every single thing about you. your favorite color. your favorite food. your coffee order. your zodiac sign. your preference between gold and silver jewelry. the man even knew what phase the damn moon had been in on the day you were born.
despite how much you loved him, you had a nagging feeling that you couldn’t say the same about him. sometimes — when he was gone without so much as a text — you felt like you hardly knew him.
clark kent was a genuine man but you couldn’t help but wonder from time to time if he was ever truly honest with you.
he woke you up with kisses.
some mornings he was gone before you woke up. early morning meetings or something along those lines pulled him from bed and had him on the train without you. right now though? right now he was here. right now, you had him all to yourself.
a smile pulled across your lips as he pressed soft, sweet kisses to your cheek. you were flush with a light pink color and warm from a full night of sleep beside him. last night had been a good night. he spoiled you rotten by taking you out to eat at one of your favorite little diners. despite it being a bit of a shit-box, the two of you always dressed up like you were going to a michelin star restaurant. being fake fancy together was one of your favorite things.
and so was taking off his nice suits.
his tie was hanging on the headboard. your heels had come off by the front door while he had kicked off his own shoes on the way to your bedroom. his belt lay discarded on the floor by the bed, covered in a pile of your clothes.
“i know you’re awake,” clark whispered. he rubbed his lips along your cheek. “you’re smiling.”
you laughed. the sound was soft and heavy with a morning grogginess that would fade the more he kissed you. “i’m not pretending to be asleep…”
“you best not be, missy.” he purred, kissing along your jaw. the frame of his glasses brushed against your face, the hinges on the temples creaking faintly. it was a sound you’d always been aware of. it was a sound you’d grown to love. an intimate, private noise.
“i dreamed about you and i’m far too keen on spending as much of my morning kissing you as i can…” he murmured, nipping at the pulse point in your neck.
“just kissing?” you asked with your breath catching in your throat. he heard it. better yet, he felt it against his lips.
he was the one smiling now.
“mm…” he half-heartedly pondered your question that he already knew the answer to. he gathered your bare waist in his hands and wiggled his way between your warm, soft thighs. “maybe a bit more than kissing…”
“can i?” he asked in a whisper. he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes that you finally opened as his erection grazed your inner thighs. you were a vision of sleepy bliss that he was intent on savoring.
you answered him with a kiss that melted him.
you laced your fingers into his always messy black hair and pushed your body against his. the hard, defined muscle that lie under his velvet, perfect skin was starkly different from your curves, blemishes, and rolls. early on, you’d been nervous to be naked around him. it had taken every ounce of bravery you had in you to take your clothes off the first time you saw him bare. he was a god damn supermodel.
you learned quick that you were heaven to him.
clark relished in every soft dip of flesh under his calloused fingers. he kissed every scar you had— every freckle and mole. he was not the type to go to church but he worshiped you.
“lord have mercy on me…” clark whimpered as he slid himself one inch at a time into the warm, silky haven between your legs. he kneaded at the pillow under your head and squeezed his eyes shut.
you smiled against the curve of his shoulder. he was cute in a pathetic-but-sexy kind of way. you ran your hands down his muscular back and guided him closer — deeper — until he was all the way inside you. sometimes, it was hard to take all of him. he was very well endowed. nine heavy, hefty inches hung between his legs— but he’d fucked you so good last night that you were prepped to take him now.
“does it feel okay, honey?” clark asked with his breath heavy in his chest. he pulled back enough to meet your eyes. you could see the sheen of sweat already beginning to build on his brow. he always got worked up so quick. his hips were already trembling.
you nodded, just as breathless and warm in the face as him. “yes.” you brought one hand up to cup his cheek. “you feel so good, my love…”
he smiled and you could’ve died. truly, you could’ve. he was so handsome that it nearly stopped your heart. his lips pulled back into the most perfect, dimpled smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and revealed straight, white teeth.
you couldn’t kiss him fast enough.
it felt like you were attacking him. honestly, it was like you were trying to eat the poor bastard. you wanted every piece of him. every morsel. and he surrendered willingly to you. he let himself be consumed by all that you were. he wanted to be apart of you. if he could’ve, he would’ve melded his soul to yours and branded your name onto his heart.
he loved you so, so much.
whether it was words he seemed to swallow away or moments like these where you could feel the tension in his muscles as he moved within you, he was keeping something from you. you tried to ignore it. you did ignore it. you told yourself over and over again that he was deeply awkward and clumsy in both his words and his actions.
yet the way his jaw clenched and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the pillow under your head suggested it was more than just clark being clark.
a sharp, shocked gasp escaped your lips as he squeezed your face between his fingers. your eyes popped open, wide and dilated like a cat. you’d been lost in the rhythm of his hips, of the squeak of the springs and headboard tapping the wall just loud enough that you should’ve been worried the person who lived in the apartment over could hear it.
the look on his face made you jolt under his touch.
his glasses were low on his nose. those sharp, full brows were pinched in a deliberate concentration you couldn’t say you’d ever seen before. his eyes were a richer, deeper shade of blue. heavy, harsh breaths slipped through parted lips that looked fuller.
something in you wanted to rear away because clark looked like a stranger for that one fleeting moment.
“you’re so beautiful…” he murmured.
before you could breathe out the breath that had caught in your throat, he kissed you.
gentle, warm lips you’d know anywhere pressed against yours in a kiss so intimate it made your blood burn hot in your veins. his hand softened on your jaw. he held the tip of your chin between his thumb and index finger. you wrapped your arms around his neck and hooked your legs higher up on his hips.
you came together. in perfect synch, eating up the other’s moans, you came undone with him. you always made the most beautiful noises when you came for him. he slid arms underneath you, holding you so tight against him that you could feel his heart pounding against your chest as he filled you.
clark looked like clark when he pulled away from the kiss you shared. your nose had helped push his glasses back up into their usual position on his face. the sheepish, bashful smile on his lips made you question why your heart was still racing so frantically.
“i love you, honey.” he whispered in that too-soft, almost squeaky voice of his. you realized only then how different his voice had sounded in that fleeting moment— raspy and deep.
“i love you, clark…” you whispered back.
“lunch today, yeah?” clark asked as you got off the train together. you nodded, arm looped through his. “sandwiches or pizza?”
“i’m feeling pizza.” you said, tipping your head back to look up at him. he was so tall. you wanted to climb him like a tree…
now wasn’t the time for that.
clark smiled. he leaned down and pressed a kiss on the space between your brows. “pizza it is then.”
you had left your apartment early enough to get coffee together. despite both getting to work at your usual times, making a coffee run made it feel like you had spent more time together than you actually did. the daily planet building was closer than your office, so you dropped him off at work.
“see you at half past one, my love.” you said, standing on your tippy toes to kiss him. even your heels couldn’t help the height difference.
“i’ll miss you every single moment we’re parted, baby,” he murmured against your lips. he always made sure to kiss you three times. “love you.”
he winked at you before heading off inside. it made your heart flutter. he did. he had a real talent for being the most charming man you’d ever met while also being the most awkward— the most clumsy. god, was he clumsy… he nearly spilled his coffee all over himself when he pulled the door open.
clark shot you a bashful, embarrassed smile. you couldn’t help but giggle at him. you blew him a kiss and he made the cutest kissy-face right back.
the rest of your walk to work was easy, albeit a bit lonelier. it was down the street and around the corner from where clark worked. your job was easy but it kept you busy. coffee refills, answering emails, scheduling meetings, and picking up the phone to speak to people who really wanted to speak with your boss instead of you. the pay was good and you got along with those in the office well enough. your boss wasn’t too bad, either.
it could’ve been worse. that’s what you told yourself when the hours of corporate life crawled on, at least. no matter how busy you were at your desk, you found time to text your boyfriend. you were lucky today. he texted you first. it made you feel a bit crazy for thinking he was ever absent.
god, that made you smile like a teenage girl. with red cheeks and a racing heart, you texted him back.
[i miss you, lover boy. how’s work so far?]
[i’m stuck writing sports today…]
[not funny… :( i would rather eat cement than write about how the basketball team humiliated themselves on the court again, babe.]
[it’s honestly really shocking most of those guys made the team. you’d think if you got paid to play a sport you’d actually be good at the sport…]
[that’s what i’m saying!!!]
you laughed under your breath. you could almost feel how hard he had slammed his thumb on the exclamation point key.
[i understand you, my love. if it’s any consolation, when you write the sports column it finally makes sports interesting! :P]
you were quick to tuck your phone away when the door to your bosses office opened. he gave you a small nod before he headed to the men’s room. you let out a soft breath and glanced back down at your phone. clark hadn’t replied yet, so you got back to work drafting an email to one of your bosses clients.
the worst part of your job was standing by the printer. for some reason, it was irritating to you. the whirr of the machine as it spit out warm, freshly inked paper grew mundane. you pulled your phone back out as you waited for all the papers to finish printing.
it made you miss him. so much so that it felt like a festering, aching wound in your chest. you wanted to reach through your phone screen and poke at him so that he put his attention back on you.
you settled for a double text.
[did the sports section kill you??? :( ]
as soon as you hit send, the building shook. you put your hands out to steady yourself. people around you gasped. they stood up from their desks and glanced around. everything went still. too still. quiet. and then the ground shook again a d the sun was gone.
you dropped your phone as you stared out the floor-to-ceiling window. outside the thin sheet of glass was a giant, scaly monster. your lips parted in a gasp of shock— of horror, but it died in your throat as fire shot out of the mouth of the monster.
you dropped down and covered your head as the glass shattered and sprayed into the office like free-falling diamonds. the floor above you was not spared from the flames as you and your floor were.
a boom so loud it shook the air echoed like an unimaginable rumble of thunder.
you covered your ears and lifted your head. the monster began to stumble. it was going to crush the building. you saw it tumbling towards you. you’d be flattened under tons and tons of brick and cement in moments— too quick to register it.
but the splat never came.
a red whipping cape whooshed mere feet from where you were huddled in on yourself by the printer. with an other-worldly ease, superman pushed the scaly monster away from the building. it stumbled forward instead, crushing nothing but park greenery and a pretty water fountain under its feet as it fought to balance itself.
you had never been more in awe.
a soft breath escaped your lungs as superman turned. he was looking up, no doubt checking on the people on the floor above. he signaled a thumbs-up, asking people if they were alright. he nodded his head before his gaze dropped. it landed on you.
he descended and it was like seeing an angel. instead of wings, a ruby red cape swayed behind him.
“are you hurt?” he asked. his voice was like sunlight. it was warm and rich and peaceful. it made your cheeks burn— or maybe it was seeing him touch down onto the carpeted floor you were still cowering on that made you flush.
he reached for you and you reached right back for him. he lifted you to your feet like you weighed nothing. it made you dizzy— he did. or perhaps that was the adrenaline. he looked around at your coworkers, nodding at them.
“you— you know my boyfriend…” you muttered dumbly. you couldn’t think straight whatsoever. not even if someone paid you to. clark was the first thing on your mind always, more so now than ever.
superman’s brows raised and he smiled at you. that smile made you all the more wobbly. he gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze, making sure you were steady on your feet.
“do i?” he asked. there was hint of something in his voice. maybe you could’ve placed it if you weren’t so shaken up.
“clark,” you said softly. you nodded your head, looking up at him with red cheeks and parted lips. “his name is clark kent.”
superman smiled all the more. “i’m well acquainted with mr. kent, yes. he does me justice in the paper.”
something in you fluttered. whether it was your stomach or your heart you weren’t sure. you felt a spark of recollection sizzle through your veins as you looked into those rich, deep blue eyes. stupidly, you felt like you known this man all your life. it had to have been the delirium of the moment and how much you had seen of him on the news that had you feeling that way.
it was definitely because clark spoke about him all the time.
superman gave your chin a soft touch, pulling you back into reality in those mere seconds he was stood in front of you. “you stay safe, miss. i know mr. kent would be very upset if something happened to you.”
that moment had felt infinite and yet not long enough. you almost reached for him again when he pulled away. you couldn’t help it. in the face of something so scary, he was a comforting beacon.
you texted clark with shaking hands when you finally picked up your phone.
[do i have a story for you…]
clark rushed home to you as soon as he could.
while you had been sent home immediately after the incident at work, your boyfriend had an obligation to cover anything and everything superman related for the daily planet. it was a frequent thing these days for him to be stuck at work with the conflict between boravia and jarhanpur going on. superman had stepped in without permission from the united states to prevent an invasion. despite clark’s long nights, you were happy to see him get front page on the paper. his interviews with superman were always an entertaining read. they had good banter even during serious topics of conversation.
“honey?” clark called out, dropping his bag by the door.
you jumped off the couch and hurried your way to him as soon as he rounded the corner. he scooped you up into his arms and the two of you let out the same breath of relief. the poor guy look disheveled. had he run all the way home? most likely.
“oh, my freaking gosh, baby, i was so worried about you…” clark sighed, squeezing your thighs firmly in his hands. “you’re not hurt, are you?”
“m’ okay,” you murmured into the warm crook of his neck. you don’t think you’d ever been more relieved to see him— to feel him. hell, even to smell him.
“i met your friend.” you said softly. you pulled back to look at him, a small smile on your lips.
“superman?” clark smiled back and gave you a knowing look. “he mentioned it when i talked to him after his fight with that…thing…”
“he’s as amazing in person as you’ve said he is. it’s so different seeing him up close than it is on tv…” you said, eyes glimmering with something warm and content.
clark huffed out a laugh through his nose and gave your thighs a soft squish. “are you crushing on my most coveted interviewee, honey?”
you laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips. “only a little bit…”
clark grumbled as he made his way to the couch. “great.” he sat down with you in his lap and smirked, “i have to worry about my coworkers trying to get their hands on superman as it is. i gotta worry about you now, too?”
you laughed all the more and shook your head. you liked that he was making you laugh. it took the edge off the lingering anxiety from this morning’s near-death experience you’d been narrowly saved from.
“i only have eyes for you, clark.” you promised him. you touched his chin and pressed a kiss to his lips.
clark gathered you closer to him, not letting you pull away just yet. his hands splayed along the curve of your spine. he moved his lips reverently against yours. he was kissing you like you were going to slip through his fingers. there was tremble in his shoulders that did not go unnoticed by you.
you pulled away from the kiss slowly, lips mere inches apart. your nose brushed against his. “i’m okay, baby. i promise.”
“if anything ever happened to you…” clark swallowed hard. he cupped your cheeks in his warm, calloused hands. “gosh, honey, i would lose my mind…”
“shh,” you murmured. you curled your hands around his wrists and shook your head. “none of that. don’t go down that hole because i’m right here. i’m here.”
clark let out a slow breath. your words meant a great deal to him. the tension dropped from his shoulders and he gave you a tiny nod. you were right and he knew it.
you were there and you were okay.
“i’m glad sports didn’t kill you today.” you said under your breath with a smile. you leaned in to kiss him.
clark let out a low, raspy laugh. he pecked your lips and gave your ass a soft pat. “i’m glad you didn’t get crushed by a giant lizard monster.”
“looks like superman saved us both.” you said.
clark grinned. “looks like he did.”
the evening was comfortable. clark did his best to make sure you were content. despite your best effort, you couldn’t completely hide the fact that today had frazzled you. every loud city noise made you jump. he held you close as you lounged together on the couch. a movie played on the tv that neither of you were paying much attention to. you were more focused on the steady, mighty pound of his heart under your ear as you laid atop him.
“i’ve got you,” he murmured into the roots of your hair. his breath was so warm it sent tingles dancing down the nape of your neck.
you nuzzled in closer to him and let out the tension in your muscles that you didn’t mean to hold. he pressed kiss after kiss to your head, softening you all the more. it felt so good. the ache you had felt earlier in the day when he hadn’t responded to your text was forgotten. in its place was an overwhelming, overflowing well of love for him.
he was so calming. it was one of your favorite things about him— the fact that he a giant, warm teddy bear disguised as a man. you didn’t fight the drowsiness that came over you. you simply tucked your face down into his chest and let your eyes close.
you woke up too hot. too thirsty. alone. you pushed yourself off your tummy and glanced around. the living room was glowing with the light of the muted tv. you rubbed your eyes as you stretched, working out an aching kink in your shoulder.
“clark?” you called out softly.
the apartment around you was too quiet and too chilly as you searched for any glimpse of him; but you had known he was gone as soon you woke up by yourself. it made your heart sink. you chewed on your lip as your finger lingered over the ‘call’ button on his contact in your phone.
you didn’t make that call.
you tossed your phone onto your bed and sat down on the edge of it. the city lights bled in through the slits of the blinds, painting you in fluorescent stripes. it was in moments like these were you felt a twinge of resentment. no matter how hard you tried to smother it, it always came back. it burned you from the inside out until tears spilled over your lashes and wet your cheeks.
where could he have gone?
that was one of the questions you asked yourself over and over and over again. for nearly two years, you spent far too many nights weeping like this. you’d fall asleep to find him gone when you woke up. you’d suffocate in a wave of loneliness that felt fatal.
the dail tone dragged and dragged and dragged. you chewed on the skin around your nails as your leg bounced. you would’ve been happy to hear his voice even if he did pick up. you would have to hear some excuse that would feel more like bullshit than it did anything genuine.
you heard that same automated message each and every time you tried to call him when he was gone.
“hey, it’s clark kent. sorry i can’t come to the phone right now but leave a message after the beep and i’ll get back to you as soon as i can. thanks.”
the beep was piercing in your ear. it should’ve jolted you. it should’ve been means for you to hang up. you never left him voicemails. well, you rarely did. but for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to move as the silence dragged on. it was like a weight on your chest, crushing you one ton at a time. you couldn’t pull your phone from your ear and press the big red button that would end this small pocket of hell you found yourself wallowing in.
in that moment, you hated him.
you hated him and his talent for disappearing when you wanted him most.
“goodnight, clark,” you murmured.
you hung up and went to bed. with tears staining your pillow and your covers cocooning you from the stillness of your bedroom around you, you fell asleep.
it was cruel of the universe to let you dream about him. his hands. his charming smile. his pristine glasses that had not one single scratch on them despite the fact that he never took them off. his goofy little laugh. his kisses.
you woke up angrier than you fell asleep because he hadn’t found his way back into your bed.
the world around you felt your wrath. the drawers and cabinet doors were slammed. the cup you smacked down onto the countertop and filled with orange juice didn’t deserve it. neither did the carton of orange juice as you shoved it back into the fridge. you didn’t deserve it either as you ripped out hair trying to get the knots out of your tangled ends.
despite his preference to live at your place, clark still had his own apartment. every now and again you would find yourself over there with him. you would cook in his kitchen, shower in his bathroom, and make love in his bed. you liked his place. you liked being where he was.
it boiled your blood all the more to imagine that he had slipped out while you snoozed on the couch to go home after what had happened to you.
he really had to have been the most dense, idiotic idiot to ever live and breathe…
the cherry on top of the rotted cake you found placed in front of you was that you still had to go to work. the only damage done to your office were the windows. a crew was already there replacing them and your boss green lit an questionable afternoon shift for everyone in the office.
you felt like a walking hurricane.
the train ride into work mocked you. every rattle of the cart that had you swaying was a reminder that he wasn’t there to steady you. there were no knowing looks to give each other this morning.
‘i love you,’ his eyes would profess to you in the crowded, congested train car. a sweet, perfect non-secret you kept. it felt like a game: we are in love and we want people to see it in the way we look at each other.
by yourself today, you felt both unheard and unfelt by clark. he hadn’t even had the decency to text you. no call, no nothing. just that empty silence that grew more and more frequent between you both.
when a text from him finally did come, you ignored it. well, you read the whole thing. it was a decently sized paragraph, but you didn’t reply to it. you flipped your phone over and tried to forget it as you typed away on your keyboard.
it was hard to draft an email when his painfully well-written words turned over and over in your head.
[hey, honey. i’m so sorry i had to run last night. i got a call from superman and we met to discuss what the monster he fought was. i didn’t want to wake you. i know i should’ve but you looked so peaceful, baby, and i just wanted you to rest. by the time he and i wrapped everything up, it was easier for me to head to my place. it was cruddy of me not to at least text you and i know that. sometimes, things get all jumbled up for me. i can be such a jerk, huh? i really am sorry, my love.]
you chewed on your lip as tears blurred your vision. you pulled your hands away from the keyboard and rubbed at your eyes. god, why did he have to be so…so perfect despite his repeated mistakes?
when your phone dinged again, that grudge you wanted to hold against him felt minuscule in comparison to the relief that flooded you.
[can we grab lunch? how does ice cream sound? something sweet for my sweetheart? hehe :) we can get whatever you’d like. i just want to see you and kiss you and love on you, honey.]
[ice cream for lunch sounds great.]
you could imagine the relief on his face. the poor bastard had probably been kicking himself all morning long. he had no doubt drafted that text message as many times as you were trying to draft and perfect the email you were sending out on behalf of your boss.
it made you grin. just a bit. the smallest, tiniest bit. barely anything. nothing, even. and the warmth that filled your face? you ignored it.
when 1:30 rolled around, you turned off your computer and clocked out for lunch. you had 45 minutes of peace from the gray, boring drawl of your office. when you stepped outside, it was sunny and warm.
his hair was a curly mess in his face and he looked like a kicked puppy. he kept his head down, his hands twisting in front of him as you approached him. he glanced at you. his lips twitched into a nervous little smile.
you didn’t say all but one word to him. instead, you punched him on the arm as soon as he was close enough.
he nodded, rubbing his bicep. “i deserve that.”
you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and tugged him down into a deep, desperate kiss. his arms instantly wrapped around you, one strong hand tangling into the roots of your hair. the busy city around you faded into nothing. you two were entirely alone, secluded in a burning moment of intimacy that said so much more than ‘i forgive you.’
every kiss and squeeze said ‘i love you so much that i can’t ever feel anything else for you.’
clark looked drunk when you pulled away. heavy, almost wheezy breaths escaped his parted lips. it made you smile. he smiled, too, disarming you without knowing.
“ice cream?” he asked in that sweet, a-pitch-too high voice of his.
you nodded, fixing his tie. “ice cream.”
clark’s taste in ice cream surprised you the first time you’d gone to get some. you figured he would have been more of a savory-sweet person, choosing a flavor like coffee or pistachio. no. not even close. he liked birthday cake with rainbow sprinkles. despite your warning to get a cup since it was warm today, he got it in a cone. you enjoyed watching him struggle to keep the ice cream from dripping all over himself as the you sat together at the table outside the ice cream parlor.
“you’re making a mess.” you laughed, popping another bite of ice cream into your mouth.
“i’m not, i’m not.” he insisted. he licked around the edge of the cone to keep everything neat.
you hated how quickly your mind wandered as you watched his tongue lap up the cold, sweet treat as it dripped. you had a sweet, dripping treat he could lick up, too, but it wouldn’t be cold…
“stop it.” he murmured. he could see you out of the corner of his eye. sitting nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, he could nearly feel what you were thinking.
“huh?” you feigned innocence. “m’ not doing anything. i didn’t even say anything.” you took another bite of ice cream. this time, you pulled the spoon out from between your lips a beat too slow.
his eyes locked on your mouth.
“you’re a naughty little thing…” clark grumbled under his breath. distracted by you and your teasing, his ice cream became a melted mess. he got up to get a few napkins.
when he sat back down beside you, he was close. extremely close. his ice cream lay face-down in a cup and he wiped his hands off on brown napkins. he was turned towards you. the large, firm expanse of his chest could’ve burst free from the buttons of his shirt if it was even a fraction of a bit tighter
“eyes up here,” he whispered, tucking a finger under your chin.
you had no time to lift your gaze because he leaned in and kissed you. he made good on his promise over text. he loved on you like there was no tomorrow. he was reserved enough — mindful of those around you both — but just sensual enough to made your skin buzz underneath your clothes.
“i want you to know,” he murmured, moving his lips from yours to your cheek. your jaw. the soft spot underneath your ear that had you tipping your head back the tiniest bit. “that you are the most important person in the world to me.”
your heart skipped a beat.
right now, you didn’t just feel like the most important person to him— you felt like the only person in the world. the way he stroked the back of your head with every kiss softened you so much that you could’ve turned to mush. you were mush. you hid away in the crook of his neck and whimpered.
“don’t be charming…” you fussed.
clark laughed. “you love when i’m charming.”
“yes, but my poor heart can only take so much. romantic clark makes me breathless enough. add charming clark into the mix and i fear i won’t live to see the sun set.”
“charming me and romantic me are different people?” he asked with a small tip of his head.
you couldn’t help but laugh. despite the hint of playfulness in his voice, you had a feeling he was genuinely asking. “it’s just an expression, babe.”
“hm,” he tipped his chin down to look at you. he ran his fingers through your hair gently, tugging at it so subtly you felt like you lifted you head on your own accord. “expression or not, every version of me loves you, honey. very, very much.”
that was a bit cheesy but it was good.
“every version?” you asked in a whisper.
he tucked a finger under your chin and smiled at you, dimples and pearly white teeth on full, glorious display. “every and all.”
“even the ones you hide from me?” you asked.
his brows furrowed for a moment. a fleeting one. a brief look of confusion twisted on his handsome face. and then he whispered words that not even he believed.
“i don’t hide anything from you…”
you smiled at him— but it wasn’t exactly kind. it was sympathetic. it was pitiful when paired with the feather-light laugh that came out of your nose. “sure you don’t.”
clark looked away. his jaw tightened and you could see he was biting back his words. you knew he had a temper. somewhere behind that gentlemanly honor, it was there. a simmering anger not always easy to keep at bay.
“i don’t lie to you.” clark said lowly. the stress on that word was his way of letting you in. in a tiny, very insufficient way, he was giving you something.
but you couldn’t say for certain if that was true or not. lying and hiding things were not exactly synonymous, but they were close enough. like cousins, in a sense.
“i’d hope you didn’t.” you said, looking back at your ice cream. it was half-melted in the cup. your spoon was sunken into it.
“why are you being this way?” clark asked. he shifted his weight, rubbing his hand over his forehead. he was growing more and more frustrated.
in turn, you could feel your own frustrations arise back up.
that grudge reared its ugly head.
“what way am i being, clark?” you asked. you shook your head at him, hoping to catch his eyes. “i mean, i’ve been pretty gracious about all the times you’ve up n’ disappeared without so much as a word.”
clark grit his teeth together. “you know it’s because of work, honey.”
“yeah. interviews with superman that take you until four o’clock in the morning to finish. i’m well aware.” you muttered bitterly.
“for god sake, baby, it’s not my fault i’m supposed to come when called. if i don’t, i miss the chance to talk to him. it’s not like he’s someone i have on speed dial. when he has time, i don’t waste it.”
“no, you just waste mine.” you said.
you wished you hadn’t. you met his gaze and both your faces crumbled. you saw his heart break. christ, you almost heard it. you shook your head, placing your hand on his arm as if to reach out and take those words back.
“i didn’t mean that.” you whispered.
clark didn’t look at you but he didn’t nudge your hand away either. “you did.”
“i know i’m not the greatest boyfriend.” he said before you could utter any pathetic apology that couldn’t remedy the hurt you just caused him. “there is so much that i could do better and i know that.”
“i’m work-focused to a fault and i know it hurts you. i know my absence causes you pain. i see it without you having to say anything. it kills me to be the root of your upset but i have an obligation, honey.”
an obligation to the paper.
you hated how jealousy-fueled anger made your eyes burn in an instant. you hated the way it made your throat tight. you hated the way your voice shook. you hated how much it hurt you to hear outright that you were not at the top of his list.
“it’s a fucking newspaper…” you whispered. if you didn’t whisper you were afraid you’d yell.
clark’s eyes snapped down you. he reached out a hand but before he could bring it to you’re tear-streaked cheek, he stopped himself. he looked at you as someone would broken glass. something they had to be careful with. something that could cut them.
“it’s not just a newspaper, my love…” clark whispered with a slow shake of his head.
an angry cry slipped passed your lips. you shook your head, grabbing your purse as you got up. “not just a newspaper? what the fuck does that even mean? do you even realize how that fucking sounds, clark?”
clark was on his feet immediately. he matched your quick strides, keeping the closeness to you that you tried to distance yourself from. “baby, it’s my job. it’s my whole life. it’s what i’m passionate about. don’t you understand that?”
you whirled around and stuck a finger in his chest. “understand? you think i don’t understand? i of all people in the world understand! but, jesus, clark, it feels like you are more passionate about your job than you are about me sometimes!”
clark’s browns pinched and his lips parted in a soft, awful agony that made your chest hurt. “that’s not true, honey. you know it’s not.”
“do i?” you asked. you turned your head away and wiped the tears on your cheeks. “i could have died yesterday and instead of staying with me, you left.”
“you didn’t even call me back…” you cried.
stabbing him would’ve hurt him less than those words did. he bit down on his lip and shook his head. you could see him choking it back. an excuse. a way out. a reason why leaving was more important.
“i’m sorry,” he whispered. he stepped forward and reached for you. “baby, i’m sorry.”
“yeah, you’re so fucking sorry.” you scoffed, nudging his hands away. “you’re so sorry, clark, that you say it all the fucking time.”
both of you knew there wasn’t anything he could say to make the hurt you felt better. he had screwed up last night. worse than he had before— worse than you wanted to admit to yourself.
“superman picked me up off the floor even when he didn’t have to. yet my own boyfriend couldn’t stay with me undisturbed for the one night i thought he would have known i needed him most.” you said.
clark grabbed you by the shoulders. he grabbed you so firmly it rattled you. your eyes widened and before you could snap at him, your voice died away.
the man stood before you now was suffering.
he was drowning even through there was no water. he was choking on all the words he could never say outright. but he said the ones he could— the ones he meant with every fiber of his being.
“i love you,” he whispered. his voice was like molten heat that weakened your core. the look on his face hurt the way looking into the sun did. “you don’t understand— you can never understand just how much i love you, honey…”
his voice broke when he said that sweet, sweet name he always called you. your breath shook as he let go of you. you stood there stunned. frozen. paused like he clicked the button on the tv remote. all you could manage was a few slow blinks and shallow, uneven breaths.
“i— i love you,” you stammered.
a weak, tired smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “i know, baby…”
“i’m sorry.” you breathed, placing your hands on any part of him you could. you curled your fingers around his suit jacket.
“i know,” he said again. softer this time. so much softer. he leaned down and rubbed his nose against yours. “i’m sorry, too. i don’t mean to be a jerk…”
he reached to gather you closer, to horde you against his chest like the most precious thing in the world to him. you let him. there was solace to find in his arms. comfort. forgiveness. true, genuine forgiveness that was as easy to hand over as a kiss.
perhaps you were a fool for it, but you did forgive him. you forgave him even though you knew this problem would persist. but some couples had real problems— like cheating and lying. clark was right. he didn’t lie to you. he hadn’t ever. he just…he didn’t always tell you everything.
some faults could be accepted.
and this was one you were willing to accept.
he walked you back to work. with his arm wrapped around your shoulder and you tucked into his side in a way that made you feel teeny tiny, he guided you through the ever-crowded streets.
“i might have to stay late at the office tonight.” he gave you a guilty look and chewed on his lip. “i’ll try not to be any later than seven, honey, but—“
“clark,” you said, turning to face him. you cupped his cheeks and pinched them gently between your fingers. “as long as you tell me where you’ll be and give me notice, you don’t have to apologize.”
he let out an awkward, almost relieved chuckle. he nodded that perfect, handsome head of his. “okay…”
you parted ways with a kiss that lingered on your lips even after he pulled away. the feel of his mouth on yours burned all the way back to your desk. you felt much better during the second half of your shift than you did for the first. even more so when your phone dinged.
[i would’ve liked licking you way more than the ice cream by the way :D]
you put your head in your hands and laughed as your face turned red. you loved him so much…
he was definitely worth every absent moment.
clark let you know for sure that he would be staying later at the office by the time your work day ended. part of you wanted to visit him. maybe you should’ve, but walking into the daily planet was more than a bit intimidating. it was one of the busiest places in the city and you wanted him to focus so that he could come home all the quicker. besides, you had to catch the train or you’d be stuck waiting for the next one for nearly an hour.
at this time of day, the city was in rush hour. the streets were lined with cars that never seemed to move more than a few feet. the sidewalks were packed with people walking shoulder-to-shoulder. everyone was trying to get home to their families, their pets, their bubbles of comfort.
your greatest comfort would be home no later than 7:15, or so he said. you couldn’t wait. to make up for the hurt you caused, you planned to make him his favorite: breakfast for dinner.
despite the fact that clark was not with you, you didn’t feel lonely on the train. you didn’t feel bitter. a permanent smile was glued to your lips at the idea of getting to see him again. you couldn’t wait to see his face when he walked into your apartment a found a stack of warm waffles drenched in butter and syrup waiting for him.
you went to the grocery store that was only a ten minute walk from your place after getting off the train. you were going to go all out for him tonight. there would be no frozen waffles popped into the toaster. no, you’d make them from scratch. finding the ingredients you’d need was easy enough. you’d only been grocery shopping at market-stop for your entire adult life.
to be extra sweet, you bought him flowers. he was always spoiling you with bouquets. your kitchen was usually full of about three full vases at a time that he swapped out when they started to whither. even though you knew these yellow daylily’s were going to live in your kitchen next to the roses, peonies, and carnations he bought you, it was the thought that counted.
what was that saying, though?
no good deed goes unpunished?
you learned that not even two seconds after leaving the grocery store.
screams of terror jolted through you and froze your blood in your veins. chaos consumed the streets in milliseconds as the hammer of boravia barreled down the street, sending cars flying and people running for their lives.
you ran. as soon as you realized what was happening around you, you ran as fast as your feet would carry you. it didn’t feel fast enough. it wasn’t fast enough. it was a horrible nightmare come to life where no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get anywhere. you couldn’t get away.
the chaos consumed you whole.
the pounding of feet became more than something you could just hear. you hadn’t realized you’d been knocked over until footsteps became something you felt. the sole’s of men and women’s shoes alike pressed into tender skin. into bone. your back. your legs. your arms as you tried to shield your head. you couldn’t hear yourself shriek over the countless cries of others around you.
flower petals lay crushed and scattered on the side walk as people ran over them.
“jesus, lady, i got ya!” shouted a voice that sounded like it broke through ice.
the next thing you knew you were on your feet. grasping your stomach and wheezing as you tried to pull any air into your flattened lungs, you could hardly focus. you tried to mutter a ‘thank you’ to the man who had helped you up— but a large piece of stone squashed him like a grape as rubble began to fall from the sky.
blood splattered all over you.
you could taste it it the air.
one second, a fully grown adult man had been standing in front of you. now, his hand was sticking out from under a piece of cement that was an inch away from taking you down with him. his blood was all over you. bits of flesh and organ and brain matter.
it was the only word to describe where you found yourself— the frozen state of shock you were in. with the city crumbling around you as the hammer of boravia unleashed destruction from the sky, you couldn’t move. you couldn’t blink. you couldn’t even bring yourself breathe.
you flinched as a meteor crashed down into the street. large chunks of pavement went flying past you in something you would later chalk-up as divine intervention. in that moment, you could only watch as superman crawled his way out of that crater.
as he hauled himself out of the hole in the earth, his eyes landed on you. amongst the running, screaming crowd you were the only thing that was still. a bloody mess of shock and injury. you hadn’t realized you were clutching your arm to your chest as that your shoulder hung at an angle that screamed dislocation. you couldn’t feel the pain.
you could only feel shock as the look on superman’s face twisted into agonized horror.
he was in front of you before you even had the chance to blink. it startled you. it pulled a gasp from your lungs when he seemed to move so fast that he teleported from his place on the street to no more than two small inches from you.
“what the heck are you doing here, honey?” superman asked, his hands nearly shaking as he caressed your face. it was like he was afraid to touch you, to hurt you any more than you already were.
it wasn’t the shock you were in that shocked you in that moment. it was that name slipping so easily from his lips. it had you as open-mouthed and bug-eyed as a fish out of water.
that was a name no one but clark called you.
“h—honey,” you murmured. you felt lopsided. the world did. everything was backwards. you grasped onto his arms for support, feeling like you were about to go head over heels in a not-so-good way.
clark must’ve called you honey so often that superman thought that was your name.
“okay, okay…” superman said softly, keeping you upright with firm, steady hands that caught you around the waist. he looked around. despite the lag in your own brain, you knew that the gears in his were turning.
he couldn’t stay with you.
he had to go stop the hammer of boravia.
superman hadn’t ever been selfish. every action since his arrival into the spotlight had been for the good of the people. he was the most righteous public servant to ever live and breathe— and you were nothing but the girlfriend of a daily planet reporter he got on well with.
being selfish was a human trait. clark kent was selfish with his near insatiable hunger for work. for a story that meant something. for an interview that could change flow of society’s day when it hit the paper. he was a selfish man— and he was at work. right now, he was at work unaware that you were covered in blood and the shoe-marks of those who had trampled you in the street.
it was something selfish superman did when he lifted you into his arms and shot up into the air.
it felt like being on a rollercoaster. the way your stomach turned and the wind tickled your face reminded you of the coasters you used to ride every summer break. you almost wanted to laugh. in your weakened state of mind, you could’ve laughed at the bubbly feeling in your belly.
but there was no laughter slipping past your lips. not when superman’s hands splayed across you in a way that felt too familiar to feel in the arms of a stranger.
the superman thing to do would’ve been to drop you off at a hospital. that’s what you thought he was going to do. it was the logical thing. in his eyes, you must’ve been too injured to leave behind. you definitely felt rough. you could feel the terrible ache in your shoulder now. the bruises forming on your spine from the feet that had run across you.
it was a selfish, human thing to do to fly you far out of the city, over the ocean, and somewhere so cold it made you coil like a spring against his chest. it all happened so fast that you felt dizzy— sick to your stomach. like a fever had set right into your bones.
“i know it’s cold, i’m sorry.” he murmured into your ear. in one smooth movement, he pulled his cape around you both to shield you from the bitter cold.
“superman,” you chattered out, your teeth clicking. “you…you…” you wanted to say so many things. ask so many things. confront him about so many things because now it was all so crystal clear you felt like a blind fool.
“yes, honey, it’s clark.” he said, his voice as soft and tender as it was when you were laid in bed together. gone was the ocean-deep tone that superman used. “it’s clark, baby. i’m right here.”
clark kent and superman were both lucky you slipped unconscious because the reaction you would’ve had could’ve brought the moon crashing into the earth.
it was so bright and crystalline-white when you opened your eyes that you had to have been in heaven.
you sucked in a slow breath of crisp, cool air into your lungs. you tipped your chin down. there was no pain. not an ache or a hurt to be felt. you flexed your fingers. you wiggled your toes within the fluffy socks on your feet. you rolled your shoulders.
there was a hum of something familiar in the air. low enough not to disturb the peace in this castle of ice and crystal, but enough to fill the silence that would’ve been there without it.
‘cause a punk rocker, yes, i am.
well, i’m a punk rocker, yes, i am.
superman really was your boyfriend.
“sir, she’s awake.” a robotic voice said as you pushed yourself up. your head was a bit spiny but you could have felt far, far worse considering what you felt like before you went unconscious.
“yeah, gary, i can see that.” he said.
you turned your head and there he was— a pillar of hope and handsomeness that winded you. you shuddered a small breath and it felt like your eyes adjusted, like everything had finally snapped into place. you could see them both at the same time.
that dorky walk couldn’t be fully covered up by the prefect posture. despite how neat his hair was, that one rouge curl told you all you needed to know. no amount of superhero-proof gel could save clark kent from his unruly curls. and that smile? that nervous, dimpled smile?
“hi, honey…” clark whispered, making his walk of misplaced shame towards you one guilty step and nervous hand twist at a time.
“does anything hurt?” he asked in a voice far too tender. he gently ran his finger tips up your thighs without lifting his gaze to yours.
“no.” you whispered. now that he was close to you, you were a bit starstruck.
you boyfriend was superman.
“you can punch me if you want.” clark said with a small, playful smile. he glanced at you.
you couldn’t help the soft laughter that escaped you. “m’ not going to punch you…”
“although, i have serious questions about the ethicality of your interviews.” you said, poking him in the chest. you leaned in closer so that he had to meet your gaze. “and about how you handled what happened after you pancaked into the street…”
clark tipped his head and chuckled. “my interviews are ethical enough, my love.” the grin on his lips spread ear-to-ear. “as for my very heroic action of saving a young lady in obvious distress?”
“it was…mmm…” he pressed a quick, feather-light kiss to your lips, “let’s say, a conflict of interest.”
you laughed. “a conflict of interest?”
“i told you, honey, you’re the most important person in the world to me.” clark said.
you couldn’t help but smile. ever the charming, your clark. you shook you head and wrapped your arms around his neck.
“what?” he asked. he gave your hips a soft squeeze and pouted. “why are you shaking your head at me?”
“because you’re an idiot, clark kent.” you said, more smiley than you’d ever been before. “and you’re the most wonderful man i’ve ever met.”
“i am pretty great guy.” clark agreed.
“some would even say super.” you said with an all too smug smile. “a super man.”
clark rolled his eyes. “you’re done.”
“oh, i’m just getting started, baby.”
thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed <3
