Everyone Knows Except Them
Note: Has anyone seen The Office? Well, this fanfic is inspired by the scene where Pam’s mom visits her at work and asks, “Which one’s Jim?” It’s so magical it makes you want to kick your feet in the air, hahaha, so I just thought, “Why not?” And if you’ve never seen it, then read this fanfic and experience the magic.
Clark Kent x female reader
Sinopsis: When your mother visits the Daily Planet for the first time, she only has one question: Which one is Clark? Unfortunately for you, Clark Kent hears the question.
Warnings: Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Workplace Romance, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers Vibes, Slice of Life
WC: 3,000 words approx.
Your hands flew across the keyboard without stopping, that familiar click click click sound that you didn’t even notice anymore because it had become so ingrained in your mind it was like breathing. Every now and then, you clicked your mouse once, then again, then again, as if that would somehow make the words come faster. But it didn’t. You were still stuck on the same sentence you’d been wrestling with for the last fifteen minutes.
You stretched your neck from side to side, feeling it crack slightly, and the small relief was enough to keep you going. You shifted in your chair because you could no longer feel your butt; honestly, you’d lost all sensation after sitting there for so many hours in a chair that was clearly begging to be replaced.
You adjusted the glasses you only wore for computer work. They were uncomfortable, always slipping down your nose or pressing painfully behind your ears, but without them the screen blurred and you’d end up with a headache.
You let out a deep sigh and looked over your monitor, directing your gaze toward the office elevator.
No one important.
Just familiar faces. Coworkers carrying coffee cups or folders.
But not the person you’d been waiting for since yesterday.
Since this morning.
Since the moment you arrived.
“Waiting for someone special?” Lois asked, watching you glance toward the elevator for what had to be the tenth time.
One eyebrow was raised, and she wore the mischievous smile you knew all too well.
You looked at her and shook your head, feeling your cheeks warm slightly.
“No... well... no,” you said shyly, smiling as you lowered your gaze to your keyboard as though the letters had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world.
You didn’t type a single word.
You simply stared while your fingers remained frozen above the keys.
“No?” Lois leaned toward you like a curious puppy. “Is someone coming to pick you up? A guy, maybe?” she asked, her voice quiet but excited, as though she already knew the answer and simply wanted to hear you say it.
You laughed.
A nervous laugh.
The kind that slipped out when someone caught you doing something you hoped they wouldn’t notice.
Eventually, Lois gave up and returned to her article, though that little smile remained firmly planted on her face.
The smile that clearly said, I know something you’re not telling me.
“A guy?”
Jimmy’s voice sounded directly behind Clark, causing the poor man to nearly drop his coffee.
It was strange because, well, Clark could normally sense anything approaching him from yards away. Hear footsteps. Feel vibrations. All those things that came with his abilities.
But something about being Clark Kent seemed to interfere with those hidden Kryptonian instincts.
When he was in the office, he wasn’t the man with the cape.
He wasn’t Superman.
He was just Clark.
And somehow that made things weird.
One moment he could hear a sigh from across the city.
The next, he failed to notice his best friend standing directly behind him.
He jumped, nearly spilling his coffee, surprising even himself with how startled he’d become.
You and Lois looked over briefly before returning to your work, as though Jimmy sneaking up on Clark had become a perfectly normal part of office life.
Of course, Jimmy didn’t know.
No one did.
Jimmy was interested in Clark, but not in the way Clark was interested in you.
Jimmy simply enjoyed teasing his friend.
It was entertaining watching Clark turn red whenever someone mentioned you.
Clark glanced in your direction while you continued typing, and the moment Lois whispered something to you, his attention abandoned his article entirely.
If anyone were being honest, Clark could probably be called nosy.
Or perhaps, to him, invading someone’s privacy wasn’t really a crime if the intentions were good.
And you were the girl he liked.
The girl who stole his attention every chance she got.
The girl who made him forget how to breathe whenever you smiled.
Listening a little wasn’t so terrible, right?
Right?
Clark looked at Jimmy, blushing.
How had his powerless friend gathered all that information so easily?
It seemed Jimmy possessed the superpower of overhearing other people’s conversations.
Or maybe Jimmy had only pretended to use Lois’s printer so he could come directly to Clark and extract information.
Jimmy leaned against Clark’s desk expectantly.
“I don’t know,” Clark said casually, though his voice came out tighter than usual.
“They’re stealing your girl, buddy,” Jimmy said, shaking his head as though he’d already accepted his friend’s inevitable suffering.
“She’s not... Jimmy, she’s not my girl,” Clark replied, raising a finger like a teacher delivering an important lesson. “She’s not an object that belongs to someone.”
Then he glanced at you.
Just for a second.
Long enough to see you laughing at something Lois had said.
“Besides...” he added quietly, “she’s allowed to date other people.”
His voice softened as though hope itself were slipping away.
As though the words weighed heavily on his tongue.
“Sure. Because you never actually ask her out,” Jimmy said, shaking his head.
There was equal parts affection and frustration in his expression, as though he’d already had this conversation a thousand times in his head.
“You heard Lois say she liked Andrew. Steve’s coworker,” Clark said, directing his gaze toward the man standing a few desks away.
Andrew.
The guy currently showing off his gym routine with his hands on his hips and his chin raised as though he owned the world.
“I wasn’t going to tell you,” Jimmy said with a shrug. “But I heard it. Sorry. Couldn’t keep it in.”
Then he looked toward Andrew.
“But come on. The guy is basically ‘Look at my biceps’ or ‘Yesterday I worked out for three hours’ or ‘I drink disgusting spinach smoothies every morning.’”
Jimmy imitated him in a ridiculous voice while flexing his skinny arms.
Clark couldn’t help smiling.
The day continued that way.
People coming and going.
Lois disappearing to discuss an important article with Cat.
Jimmy working through his fourth cup of coffee while flirting with the woman from the Culture section—the one who always wore enormous earrings and laughed loudly.
Clark looked at you.
Then at Andrew.
Andrew picked up a folder and smiled at you.
You smiled back while continuing to type, nodding as he walked away at an annoyingly leisurely pace.
Clark lowered his eyes to his keyboard.
A heaviness settled in his chest.
Maybe it simply wasn’t his time.
Maybe he was destined to be the supporting character.
The one who never got the girl.
The one who stood by and watched the person he loved fall for someone else.
Maybe under different circumstances.
Maybe in another life.
Things would be different.
“You’re here!”
You jumped up from your chair so quickly that you nearly sent it crashing backward.
Clark’s head snapped up immediately, his spine straightening without him realizing it.
You hurried toward the elevator, excitement radiating from every step.
For one terrifying second, Clark thought you were already spoken for.
That the guy you’d been talking about had finally arrived to take you away.
Then he looked closer.
The person stepping out of the elevator was a woman.
Shorter than you, but undeniably similar.
The same smile.
The same eyes.
The same lightness in her walk.
Clark tilted his head, confused.
Then he smiled.
Your mother.
There was no doubt.
Not after the way you hugged her.
Not after she lovingly brushed your hair back.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I couldn’t find the right floor. I got off on the fifth floor, and they told me you didn’t exist. I said, ‘What do you mean my daughter doesn’t exist?’ Then they finally realized who I was talking about,” your mother said as she walked beside you toward your desk, looking around with fascination as though the office were a museum filled with treasures.
You smiled.
That big smile that only ever appeared around her.
“I told you I could come get you, Mom,” you whispered, kissing her cheek.
Meanwhile, Clark kept his eyes glued to his computer screen while paying absolute attention to every word.
Every laugh.
Every touch of your mother’s arm.
“This is my desk,” you said, sitting down and gesturing toward the chair beside you so she could see where you worked. “I’m writing an article.”
You pointed toward the screen filled with words you’d written and deleted a hundred times.
Your mother nodded seriously.
“Mhm.”
She looked around.
Then leaned closer.
Without taking her eyes off the office.
“Which one is Clark?” she whispered, scanning the room like a spy in a movie.
You blushed instantly.
Heat rushed up your neck and into your ears.
“Mom,” you whispered, practically sinking beneath your desk.
Even though she’d spoken quietly.
Even though it was barely audible.
“What?” your mother replied with a knowing smile, leaning closer. “You spend hours talking about him on the phone. I deserve to meet the man my daughter is in love with.”
Those words echoed through your mind like they’d been shouted through a megaphone.
Across the room, Clark felt his heart somersault.
“It’s him,” you whispered, barely moving your head toward Clark.
Just a tiny gesture.
Your mother followed your gaze.
Clark wasn’t sure whether it was your heart beating that loudly or his own.
He could hear two racing heartbeats.
One closer than the other.
And he couldn’t tell which belonged to whom.
He licked his lips, trying to suppress the enormous smile threatening to spread across his face.
He lowered his gaze to the keyboard.
Tilted his head.
Tried to hide it.
Oh, sure.
This was definitely one of the advantages of super hearing.
Listening to the entire city wasn’t always enjoyable.
But moments like this?
Hearing your voice whisper that you were in love with him?
That made every second worthwhile.
“So you’re the beautiful mother of my best friend.”
Lois interrupted with her brightest reporter smile.
She approached with her hand extended and a sparkle in her eyes.
You stood so quickly you nearly knocked into your chair.
“Lois Lane, right? Of course. Black hair. Eyes capable of making any man fall in love. Gorgeous. That’s you,” your mother said, shaking her hand firmly while looking her up and down as though she’d just met a celebrity.
You laughed and shook your head.
Embarrassed.
Happy.
Both at once.
Lois looked at you with curiosity, one eyebrow raised.
You shrugged with a mischievous smile.
“She’s the one who gives me all the advice I give you.”
Lois laughed loudly before pulling your mother into a hug as though they’d known each other for years.
From his desk, Clark stared at his keyboard with an idiotic smile he couldn’t erase, listening to the laughter of the three of you blend into the sounds of the office.
Then Clark stood up.
Not gracefully.
Not remotely.
It was the kind of standing up that happened when someone’s legs suddenly forgot how to function.
His hands trembled around a sheet of paper.
His eyes shifted from you.
To the floor.
Back to you.
As though he couldn’t decide where it was safest to look.
Thankfully, Perry had asked Clark to print an article and deliver it to you so it could be passed along to the editors, just like always.
A real reason to approach you.
A legitimate excuse.
Not one he’d invented.
Yet even with that perfectly reasonable excuse, Clark felt as though his knees might give out at any moment.
He walked toward you in short steps, clutching the paper against his chest like a shield.
With every step, his heart climbed higher into his throat.
You looked up as he approached.
Your heart stopped.
Or maybe it stopped twice.
Or maybe it stopped altogether.
Your mother glanced at you from the corner of her eye, wearing that familiar smile.
You looked at her.
Or maybe you swallowed.
You honestly couldn’t remember which came first.
You only knew that the office suddenly felt warmer.
And your palms had started sweating for absolutely no reason.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Clark said quietly.
So quietly it sounded as though he were asking permission to exist within your space.
He smiled at you.
A trembling smile.
The kind that escaped before he could stop it.
His fingers continued squeezing the paper as though it were the only thing keeping him upright.
“No, no,” you replied immediately.
Far too quickly.
Then you looked at your mother with eyes that clearly pleaded, Please don’t say anything weird.
“I... this is my mother, Clark... no... what’s wrong?” you said, realizing halfway through the sentence that none of those words made sense.
You sounded as though you were apologizing.
Or answering a question he’d never asked.
He only wanted to hand you a paper.
Not meet your mother.
At least, that’s what you assumed.
But your mouth had sprinted ahead of your brain.
And it was far too late to catch up.
Clark smiled anyway, despite not fully understanding what you’d just said.
He extended a hand toward your mother.
Then immediately pulled it back.
Wiped it on his jacket.
Then offered it again more carefully.
As though presenting something fragile.
“Clark Kent, ma’am. It’s a pleasure.”
His voice came out slightly higher than usual.
The unmistakable sound of someone who was desperately nervous.
You smiled at your mother.
The kind of smile that hurt because of how hard you were forcing yourself to appear calm.
“Clark Kent,” your mother repeated, savoring the name like candy. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
She dropped the words casually.
Like someone tossing a grenade and waiting to see the explosion.
“About everyone,” you corrected quickly.
Far too quickly.
Far too obviously.
Your voice sounded rushed.
Artificial.
You fooled absolutely no one.
It was as obvious as the sky being blue.
As obvious as coffee being hot.
Your mother gave you a look that clearly said, Oh, my sweet foolish daughter.
Clark turned as red as a tomato.
“Yes, well, I hope my daughter does a good job and is a good coworker to everyone,” your mother said, releasing Clark’s hand after holding it a second longer than necessary.
Then she turned toward Lois as though she hadn’t just left her daughter internally screaming.
“She is. She’s the best.”
Clark’s words came out instantly.
Purely.
Directly from his heart before his brain had a chance to intervene.
Even he looked surprised.
You stared at him.
Speechless.
Your mother stared at him.
One eyebrow raised.
A huge smile spreading across her face.
Lois stared at him too.
Barely managing not to laugh.
Her expression practically screamed, These two are hopeless.
You smiled without entirely understanding why.
Then looked at your mother with a mixture of embarrassment and happiness you couldn’t conceal.
“I’m glad to hear that. I won’t take up any more of your time. Your work is important,” your mother said, waving a hand as though dismissing an entire army. “I’ll wait for my daughter downstairs.”
She paused for a moment.
Thinking.
“I’ll look for a restaurant while I wait. I hear Metropolis has excellent restaurants.”
She looked around as though expecting someone to hand her a map.
“The Italian restaurant next to the park is amazing,” Clark recommended.
The moment he finished speaking, he blushed so intensely it looked like he’d suddenly developed a fever.
He adjusted his glasses with a trembling finger.
A habit he always had when he was nervous.
Though he had no idea he did it.
“I think,” he added quietly, suddenly uncertain of his own recommendation.
You smiled.
One of those smiles that appeared without permission.
The kind you couldn’t stop even if you tried.
“Of course. When we went there with Jimmy,” you said, remembering.
Clark nodded, relieved that someone had confirmed he hadn’t imagined the place.
You turned to your mother, your eyes shining.
“It really is good.”
Your voice carried far more conviction than one would expect from a conversation about food.
“Oh, then you should come with us, Clark. You seem to know the city well,” your mother said casually, as though inviting an old family friend to dinner.
You shook your head so quickly your neck nearly hurt.
“He’s lived here exactly as long as I have,” you tried to point out, as though that were a perfectly reasonable argument against him joining.
Your mother didn’t even look at you.
Her eyes remained fixed on Clark with the determination only mothers possessed when arranging something their children never requested.
“It would be my pleasure to join you. I... yes... Perry said...” Clark began.
Then immediately tangled himself in his own words.
He pointed at the paper still clutched in his hands as though he’d only just remembered it existed.
“This is for you,” he said finally, extending it toward you with the care of someone presenting an important trophy.
His fingers brushed yours.
Just for a second.
Both of you pulled away at exactly the same time.
As though the contact had shocked you.
“I... I’ll leave on time so I can take you both,” Clark said.
Then he retreated so quickly it looked like he was escaping a fire.
He nearly tripped over a chair.
Caught himself at the last second.
Then walked straight into a doorway that had been there forever.
And kept going.
His cheeks were so red they looked like two apples hanging from either side of his face.
You looked at your mother with wide eyes, having absolutely no idea what expression you were supposed to make. Whether you should be offended, laugh, or simply crawl under your desk and never come out again.
Lois smiled at your mother, shaking her head from side to side with the expression of someone who had seen this story before and already knew how it ended.
“See, ma’am?” Lois teased, crossing her arms and leaning against the desk as though she were watching her favorite television show. “Those two are complete lovebirds. It’s only a matter of time before they end up together.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the silly smile that slipped onto your lips.
Your mother simply nodded.
Serious.
Thoughtful.
As though she were mentally documenting every single thing she had witnessed.
Saving every detail for later.
For one of those phone calls when the two of you were alone.
When she could finally interrogate you properly and you would end up confessing everything you felt for Clark Kent.
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