blind boxes and x-ray visions
• pairing: clark kent x fem!reader
• now playing: love you for a long time by maggie rogers and the simple things by michael carreon
• word count: 3.2k
• genre: fluff
— another quick one I made just now. unedited again, but i hope you enjoy!
The keys jingle loudly in your grip as you twist them to open your front door; the singular key to your apartment is lost among the numerous keychains hanging on the split ring. You were well aware that Clark was already inside. It had become a sort of tradition between the two of you for him to leave earlier from the office to buy stuff to make dinner, if you call breakfast food dinner, as a surprise. It has also become a habit of yours to make a fuss while opening the door to subtly announce your presence, because, for a metahuman, he does get startled a lot.
“Hey! You’re right on time,” he says as you step foot into the kitchen. Before you could even get a word in, he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. You let your bag drop from your shoulders to the floor and slide your hands across his chest.
It’s warm and easy, his way of saying I missed you in the three hours we spent apart without saying it out loud. He tastes like coffee and something sweet. It must have been from taking bites from the small bowl of strawberries behind him. He pulls back as you gasp when he effortlessly picks you up to place you on the counter, just enough to glance down at you.
“How was the drive home?” he murmurs, voice low against your cheek.
You nod, half-dazed. And he smiles that adorable grin of his that reminds you of summer.
Then, with a chuckle, he steps away to check on the pan on the stove. “You’re just right in time. Can you hand me some plates?”
You grab two mismatched plates from the overhead cabinets behind you before moving to stand next to him. With no words spoken and collisions, you move around like it’s your second nature. He transfers the food to the plates you put on the counter next to the stove. While you reach for the utensils as he shifts out of the way. At the sound of the door opening, a hand reaches out from behind you to grab two glasses.
It felt like a quiet rhythm you’ve both fallen into without trying. It was something you loved with Clark. You didn’t have to think about anything the way you normally would without others.
You just know. And so does he.
Sitting next to each other on the couch as the voices from the television fill the room, your attention was entirely on the film that was playing. Your legs are folded beneath you, shoulders leaning slightly into his. One of his arms lay comfortably on the back of the couch.
He shifts to grab your empty plate, walking towards the kitchen to drop them off in the sink in an organised manner, knowing that you liked to wash them by hand after dinner. It was sort of a therapeutic time for you to rinse the dishes with the great view of Metropolis just above the sink.
He resumes his position beside you, but instead, he grabs your legs to place them on top of his lap while your eyes remain focused on the movie. At some point, his eyes drift from the television to the shelf on the wall. His eyes lock onto an unfamiliar figurine resting beside your books.
Thanks to his incredible vision, he looks closer. Its wide, green eyes look to be in a glare. It, or she, was holding a white notepad with what seems to be a black cat with wings on its back. The colors were soft and pleasing to look at: forest green pants, a cream and blueish green hoodie, and a headset atop her orange hair. It reminds him of you while you’re busy at work with your notepad always on hand.
“What’s that?” he asks with a small furrow in his brow and a curious glint in his eyes. You pause the movie and shift your gaze to where he was looking.
“Oh!” You immediately knew what he was pertaining to. “That’s a figurine that I bought yesterday. I was at the mall with my sister, and she wanted to go to this store that might have something she was looking for. A figurine, too.”
You pull your legs from his hold and stand to grab the figure from its place. Dropping next to him, you show it off. “She was collecting those ugly little monster figures, but then I saw these on display and had to buy them. It was so adorable.”
Clark blinks at you, then at the figurine in your hands, and back at you again. “Ugly little monster figures?” he asks as he carefully takes the plastic figurine from your grasp. He was holding it sodelicately since it reminded him of those comic hero figurines that he used to collect back in high school.
“Yeah, they have sharp teeth and furry bodies. I hated them, but I promised her I would buy whatever she wanted.” You shrug.
“Are they a collectible or what? You said she was looking for it specifically,” he asks, eyes still focused on the item in his hands.
“Yeah, it’s a blind box figurine. You buy it without knowing which one you’re gonna get. They have a preview on the side of the box that tells you what it might be,” you explain. “There’s even a secret one that is super hard to get!”
His eyebrows draw together as he looks at you, the gears in his head visibly turning. “So you just… pay for it and hope you get the one you want?” he finally asks, confused by its appeal.
You grin, nodding. “Pretty much. I chose a series that had more of the cute designs so I wouldn’t regret it.”
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he gives it back to you with the same measured care. Seeing him do so made your heart soften. The fact that he didn’t fully understand what it meant to you, but still wasn’t so dismissive and uncaring, was a change from your past partners.
“Why not just buy the one you want?” he asks.
“Where’s the fun in that?” you shoot back, “I wondered that too, but while we were opening our bags in the car. It was so thrilling. Lana said I should choose which ones I wanted first and the ones I don’t want and say it out loud so that it keeps it suspenseful.”
He looks at you endearingly at the way you were so happily describing the experience with your sister. The glint in your eyes was so bright even in the dark. You were also waving your hands around the way you do when you are overly excited about something.
He laughs when you say, “Lana was so mad that the thing she said of saying the one you want out loud didn’t work.”
“Why?”
“Apparently, if you declare the ones you hate or something, you would get that specific one. But luckily for me, I got a good one!” You clapped like a kid in a candy store. The sight made a small, affectionate smile tug at his lips. The deep dimples on the side of his mouth that you loved so much make an appearance.
Clark keeps asking you questions to which you happily answer. Then, unable to control himself, he comes forward and cups your jaw gently as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.
The next day, around lunch time and you were off on an assignment wth Cat. He turns to Lois.
“Hey, do you happen to know what blind boxes are?’ he asks. Lois was confused as to why he was asking her about such things, but nodded, nonetheless.
Lois raises an eyebrow, mid-sip into her sugar-filled coffee. “Yeah,” she says. “Those little collectible toys that come in sealed packages so you don’t know what you’re getting until you open them. Why.”
He shifts a little, feigning casualty, but the way he pushes his glasses up is a tell of his interest. “No reason. Just…uh, do you know where to get them? Like the ones that are girls with big wide eyes,” he says, unsure of how to describe them.
Lois stares at him.
He adds, “It’s tall and wears baggy clothes and has orange hair,” and gestures vaguely to show how tall it was.
“Clark,” she turns her chair to face him, “are you trying to buy one of those cutesy little female dolls?”
He clears his throat, rushing to clarify. “It’s not for me!”
“Right.” Lois leans back in her chair, knowing perfectly well it’s for you, but you guys haven’t been public yet at the office, so she lets go of it. “You’ll want ot check any toy store at the Metro Center. I’m pretty sure they have the ones you’re looking for. It’s a bit farther, but there’s a store on 7th Avenue that has the official store for them if you can’t find any at Metro.”
He quickly thanks her and moves back to his desk just as you enter through the double doors and slide a cup of hojicha for him. Making sure to drop one for Lois, too, as you pass.
The store was quite big, tucked beside a bookshop, and had a lot more people walking around than he expected. Clark was standing in front of the display like he was inspecting evidence of conspiracy, hands in his pockets, brow slightly furrowed. The low display table was stacked with rows of Peach Riot boxes, some for individual buys and a few sealed off the whole thing. The glossy packaging was plastered with chaotic, overdramatic little poses of the characters in different attire.
He scanned the 12 boxes in front of him, then again, a slow breath leaving his mouth.
Peach Riot Rise Up Figures.
That was the one that seemed to be the series you got. His eyes skimmed over the lineup printed on the side of the display box: Gigi Lil’ Lead, Frankie Sick Beats, Poppy Business, Frankie Diva.
You pointed out that you wanted Frankie Diva last night, flickering through your phone as you were lying back on his chest, showing the complete collection to him. You found her little red cowboy hat adorable, which reminded you of the one you had as a kid. Then you also liked the Sick Beats one.
He looked around. A couple of teenagers hovered by the huge figurines at the centre. One bored cashier. No one that would wonder why he would be staring so intently at the boxes.
Casually, he reached out and grabbed a box in each of his hands. His x-ray vision flicked on for just a second, just enough ot catch a glimpse of the figure inside. “Poppy Business, pass,” he muttered under his breath.
He set it back and continued to pick up another box until he found one that contained either of what you wanted.
It was box five when he hit the jackpot. That went into the crook of his arm.
He looked around for another series you mentioned, the Punk Fairy ones. He immediately spots them a few steps over.
Jackpot on box three. Poppy-Strawberry. He found the secret figure. Looking at the two he has, you would have one of each character now.
Then, just for fun, he scanned for two more: Gigi Leaf and Frankie Tutor. Both were cute, but kind of too boring for their price tag.
About two days later, you come home from the grocery store to find Clark already in your apartment. He swiftly grabbed the bags from your arms and gave you a peck on the forehead before moving to the kitchen to sort them out for you.
“I got something for you,” he says as you follow him to help.
You turn to see where he was pointing to find a bag from the store waiting for you at the coffee table. You gasp and run towards the living room with Clark trailing after you with a smile on his face.
“Oh my! No, you didn’t!” You excitedly slap his arms as you sit down on the floor.
“Yes, way!” His high-pitched voice makes you laugh. “Open it.”
“Ok, what do we have?” you say to yourself as you spill the contents of the bag. Meanwhile, Clark was looking at you expectantly, waiting for your reaction as you opened them.
“This is a lot, Clark. You shouldn’t have!” you off-handedly remarked. But from how distracted you were by them, it seemed like you weren’t as bothered as you normally would be when he spoils you. “Whatever makes you happy.”
“Ok, but you have to open them with me so you get what I mean by how exciting it is!” You pull him forward from his relaxed posture beside you. You grabbed a random box, which you handed to him, and grabbed one. He laughs to himself, but you ignored him. Turning it to the side where twelve colorful iterations were printed, “We have to pick which ones we want.” You tap on one, then another. “I want the Tree Stump or Sunflower. Just not this leaf one. What about you?”
He glances at the box as if it were the first time he was looking at it before pointing decisively at the secret figurine.
You snort, “Secret figurines have, I think, a one in a hundred forty-four chances. Pick another.”
He laughs, “Ok…the Sick Beats then.”
“Ok, let’s tap the boxes before opening them,” you say as you tap on yours.
“Why?”
“For luck.”
Clark stares at you, unimpressed, before looking down at the box in his hand. He exhales and mimics your movement. “This is dumb.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You wave him off, starting to rip the cardboard box already.
The sound of crinkling stiff plastic fills the room as you both rip them open. You close your eyes and let him look at your pull first. At his laugh, you groaned while opening your eyes to find Gigi Leaf staring back at you.
“The most boring one, seriously?” you sagged against the couch behind you. “What about you?”
He closes his eyes, too, before pulling out his own. You glance at it and groan again. “Ok! You’re bad at choosing boxes, I guess,” you tease, in a mix of disappointment and laughter. “You got Frankie Tutor. Cute but a bit boring too.”
Clark lifts the tiny figure between his fingers with a faux thoughtful hum. “Hmm, she’s cute. She’s helping kids out with their studies.” Brow furrowing with mock seriousness.
You snort, “Ok, Superman.”
He chuckles at that, the sound low and warm, and sets the figure down next to yours. Then he reaches to grab another box for you and himself. He made sure to grab the secret figure to mess with you even more, because he wanted to see the way your nose scrunches when you’re overflowing with energy. He finds it ridiculously adorable and swore to never stop buying you stuff that you loved if it meant seeing it again and again.
“Round two,” he says.
“Ok, hopefully this is good.” You tap the box like crazy and go as far as shaking it. Like that’s gonna help.
He tries not to smile too much so he won’t give himself away. You’re just so serious about it, like it was such a high-stakes mission. He loves that about you. The way you get so animated over things you were passionate about. And particularly loves that you make an effort to make him a part of the experience.
“You know shaking it won’t do anything, right?” he teases, knowing better the contents of the box.
You side-eye him, “You never know.”
“Ok, scientific method.”
You both pulled the seal open again. He watches as you rip through the plastic and, much to his delight, your eyes widen the second you spot what’s inside.
“No way-” You yank it out, mouth open in surprise and glee. “It’s Frankie Diva!”
You turn the figurine to face him, showing it off like it was your baby. He leans back with a grin, watching you stare at the small figure like it’s made of gold.
“Open yours!” You sit up straight, suddenly reminded that there was still one more.
Clark looks down as he spots the figure inside and makes a loud snort. You wait impatiently as he pulls it out. You lean in, wide-eyed, “What is it? Show me!”
But he takes his time, fingers curling slowly around the tiny figure as he lifts it out with the same reverence as someone handling a rare artifact.
Your jaw drops.
You stare in disbelief as you look at the secret figurine he’s carefully holding in his hand. Your eyes comically dart back and forth from the figure to him. “Are you kidding me?”
He doesn’t even try to look modest. His expression shifts instantly more into that loud, smug look, the one that he wears when he knows he’s right. The one that makes you want to shove his face in.
“What did you say just now?” he says, putting a hand by his ear, pretending like he didn’t hear you right. “I’m bad at choosing boxes?”
“It was a joke,” you laugh, sheepish now as you reach for the figure in his hand. “I take it back. You’re gifted!”
But Clark knew, and he shifted just out of reach, holding the figure high above his head and a bit further behind him with ease. His grin widens as you try (and fail) to grab it from him.
“Oh no, no,” he says, voice dripping with faux-seriousness. “I don’t know, that seemed very insincere.”
You groan. “Clark. Baby. My lovely alien darling, who is good and generous.”
“I mean, now you say I’m gifted and you call me your darling, but five seconds ago I was horrible at this.” He tilts his head, tapping the side of his cheek with his other.
You huff, narrowing your eyes. “What do you want?”
He pretends to consider. “I want a fair trade.”
You cross your arms. “Like what?”
He shrugs, all innocent as he pushes his face closer to you. “A kiss. Just a little one.”
“That’s it?”
He nods. “And maybe a laugh at one of my jokes sometimes.” He quickly adds.
You stared at him for a second, flustered. You couldn’t help yourself from laughing at how adorable he was. “You’re unbelievable. The second one might be a bit hard, but fine.”
“Hurry up.” he pushes his face out even more, still holding your figure hostage above you.
You roll your eyes, blushing as you lean in and are surprised as he turns slightly for your lips to press against his lips instead, a cheeky smile on his face as he holds you close to him by the back of your neck.
“Clark!” You giggle at the cringy move. He moves his head to the space between your neck and shoulder and drops the figure into your hands.
“There,” he says, softly. “It’s yours.”
He looks fondly at you as you give him one more kiss on the cheek before pouring all your attention to the figurine.
Maybe sometimes secrets can be a good thing.
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