Christmas Challenge
Pairing: Clark Kent x reader (no y/n)
Summary: You get paired with Clark for the Daily Planet's Christmas team building activity
Word count: 3.4k words
Warnings: Making out. Reader has no physical/gender descriptors (except for having hair). No other warnings, just a quick bit of Christmas fluff. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics
If someone had told you this morning that a few hours later you would be lying under a desk in the office, practically on top of Clark Kent, his arms holding you close against him, you would have asked what they’d been smoking. If they’d added that you’d be surrounded by cotton balls and both shaking with silent laughter - you attempting to muffle your giggles against the firm muscles of his chest, his bright smile buried in your hair - you would have questioned just how weird the Daily Planet Christmas party was going to be.
It started with every employee finishing after lunch for what Perry White begrudgingly announced as a “non-denominational, non-obligatory, festive celebration” including a “fun” - he’d actually winced at the word - team building activity followed by dinner and drinks, “where no one will be consuming enough alcohol to risk a lawsuit.”
When he revealed that the team building was to be completed in pairs, all made up of one person from the editorial team and one from the back office staff, Jimmy Olson had loudly complained.
“Us journalists are used to going out there and doing things! I don’t want to be teamed up with some desk jockey pencil pusher who’ll just slow me down. Come on Perry, be reasonable!”
The glare Perry gave him was enough to shut him up, but you - one of the many offended non-journalists - saw your chance, and threw up your hand.
At the editor’s nod, you spoke up over the disgruntled murmurs on your side of the room. “Can I be paired with anyone other than Jimmy Olson?”
Chuckles rippled around the gathering, and even Perry almost smiled around his cigar as he nodded in agreement and pointed out a partner for you. “You’re with Kent.”
Once everyone else had split into teams, you found your way to Clark, who waved eagerly as you approached. You’d spoken to him a few times; as part of the legal team, you often had to review his articles before publication, and despite him clearly having a very strong sense of right and wrong that often differed from what could be considered libel by the subjects of his stories, he was never difficult with you. In fact, he was as kind and friendly to you as he was to everyone else at the Daily Planet, from the editor-in-chief to the doorman, and you’d never heard a word against him. You even occasionally found yourself looking forward to seeing the tousle-haired reporter around the office, so you were glad of the chance to get to know him better.
“Are you feeling festively competitive?” He asked with his signature wonky grin, nearly dropping the golden envelope containing your task as he spun it in his hands.
“As I’ll ever be.” You smiled back, accepting the card when he held it out to you, and pulling it out to reveal the task. “Take photos representing either Christmas songs or Christmas movies,” you read, “all photos must be taken within the time of the challenge, within a reasonable budget, and must include both team members. Points will be awarded for each photo, with bonus points for originality. Judges' decisions are final.”
Clark beamed, his eyes already sparking with ideas. “This sounds fun. Do you have a preference, songs or movies?”
“Up to you.” You couldn’t help smiling at his visible enthusiasm.
“Hmm,” he pressed a finger to his lips in thought, “I think movies will be the more popular choice.”
You completed his thought. “So we should pick songs to try and get more originality points?”
“I think so.” He nods, his smile widening. “And I have the perfect idea for where to start.”
With that, Clark had ushered you out of the office and over to Centennial Park where he pointed proudly at one of the tourist carriages waiting on the path.
“A one-horse open sleigh?” You laughed.
“Jingle Bells!” He confirmed.
“Batman smells.” You added automatically.
“What?”
You shook your head. “Never mind. But you know, I’m not sure sleighs should have wheels - and there’s not a lot of snow for us to dash through.” You teased.
Clark leaned closer to you. “Oh, it’s close enough. Come on!”
After explaining your intentions to the blank-faced driver and roping in a more cheerful passerby to take the photo, the two of you settled in the back of the carriage, Clark carefully tucking the blanket around you.
“Now, we need to laugh all the way-” he’s interrupted by your overexcitable amateur photographer.
“Laugh! Smile!” He shouted directions at you. “Look in love!”
“In love? Is that part of it?” You asked quietly.
Clark shrugged, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and moving close enough for your thighs to press against each other. “Christmas is all about love! And love makes people happy, so - maybe?”
You chuckled, falling back against him as the carriage started with a jolt. “Why not? I guess it mostly makes sense.”
As the speed picked up you were ready to mime laughter, but Clark let out a full, warm belly-laugh that pulled the real thing from you, amused at his whole-hearted effort.
The carriage came to a stop a few yards later and Clark helped you climb down, both of you rumpled from the breeze.
“That's perfect!” He exclaimed as he took his phone back from your helper. “Thank you.”
He handed you his phone, and you were surprised at how good the photo was - your scarf wafting in motion, a small snow-sprinkled hump in the grass almost concealing the wheels, you and Clark nestled together mid-laugh, looking for all the world like a delightedly cheerful couple. Something in the sight of it warmed you down to your toes.
“That’s amazing! Send that to me?” You asked Clark after paying the frosty-faced driver.
“Of course.”
“I can’t believe it came out so well.” You wondered, bumping into him playfully. “And I kind of can’t believe you gave your phone to a stranger and then got in a moving vehicle.”
“Why?”
You boggled at him. “Because he could have run off with it!”
“We could have chased him in the sleigh.”
A laugh bubbled out of you. “The carriage. That would have been interesting.”
“I wasn’t worried,” Clark shrugged, “people are mostly good.”
“It’s the ‘mostly’ bit that worries me.” You said as you left the park together. “But it’s great you can still believe that, especially given the things you cover for the paper.”
“Well, I firmly believe that if you give people the chance to be good, they’ll take it. The problem is that the world doesn’t always push people that way.” Clark wrinkled his nose, pushing his glasses up. “But it does this time of year!”
“Does it? Excessive consumption, materialism, competitive gift-giving-”
“Love, warmth, charity.” Clark stopped in the street, pointing at you with mock-sternness. “Don’t tell me you’re a grinch! I will be forced to make it my personal mission to change your mind.”
You laughed. “I’m not a grinch! But if I was, I think you’d already be changing my mind.”
“Good.” Clark smiled at you so warmly it felt like a whole city of Christmas lights was sparking to life in your chest.
“So.” You began, before you could examine the feeling too closely. “What’s next?”
Dashing around Metropolis, the two of you managed to recreate a surprising number of Christmas songs. Clark clearly had no problem making a fool of himself in the process, and once you let go and fully joined in, you found yourself having the most fun you had in ages.
In front of the big Christmas tree in one of the major department stores, Clark carefully slipped a pair of sunglasses on you before leading you in an enthusiastic air guitar performance for Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.
The store assistant helping you was charmed by your mission - or by Clark - and helped find you accessories for three more photos; a day calendar you bought and quickly shredded as you recreated I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day, a large heart-shaped ornament and gift boxes for a two-part photo representing Last Christmas, and a giant ribbon you turn into a human-sized gift bow that Clark tenderly fixes to you before staring at you with dreamy longing for All I Want For Christmas is You.
“You’re a good actor.” You mumbled to him after you’d said your thanks, hoping the chill winter air when you left the store would cool the heat that had risen to your cheeks at his startlingly realistic expression of love.
“Just getting into the spirit of things.” He grinned at you, apparently unaware of the effect he was having. “Oh, how about Driving Home For Christmas?” He pointed at the slow-moving stream of vehicles filling the road.
“Do you have a car?” You asked. “Does anyone in Metropolis?”
“No, and yes - but no one I know.” He answered cheerfully. “But I think together we can make a persuasive argument that a taxi counts, right? You’re a whip-smart lawyer, I’m a fairly persuasive journalist. We make a good team.”
“We do.” You agreed, tucking your small smile into your scarf.
“Then let’s go,” Clark beamed as he grabbed your hand to lead you to a waiting cab. His palm was warm and strong as you wrapped your fingers around his - only reluctantly letting go once he’d explained your mission to the driver, who was happy enough to play along if he could keep the meter running.
A block later, photo taken, you leapt out of the taxi at the sight of a man dressed as Father Christmas to take a selfie of you and Clark that could just about pass for Santa Claus is Coming to Town. He then pulled you over to an elaborately decorated coffee shop for another picture.
“What’s this one for?” You asked, confused.
“Silver Bells.” Clark answered like it was obvious.
You laughed. “You like a lot of oldies, huh?”
“Hey,” Clark smiled, wagging a finger at you, “they’re not called golden oldies for nothing.”
He paused as something else nestled in the decorations caught his attention. You followed his gaze to the plump bundle of mistletoe hanging above you.
When you looked back at Clark, he was gazing at you thoughtfully, a shy smile playing on his lips.
“Mistletoe.” You murmured.
“Hmm.” He tilted his head up to look at it again, the glare on his glasses hiding his eyes from you. “Might be a good idea to have some extra luck? Not that we need it, obviously, but - what do you think?”
You bit your lip to keep a straight face. You heard a shimmer of nervousness in Clark’s voice that made you wonder if he’d also been feeling the warmth of the cinnamon sugar affection that had been growing in you all day. “I think there’s no harm.” You offered coyly, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “Some extra luck is just good sense.”
Clark smiled true and wide. “Exactly.”
He stepped toward you, and as you held each other's gaze for a long beat, a tingle of giddy anticipation rushed from your toes to your lips.
Clark’s blue eyes shivered over your face before he moved closer, gently taking both of your hands in his, leaning in - and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.
When he moved back, you saw him catch the flicker of disappointment in your eyes and his smile turned confident and teasing as he squeezed your fingers in a promise.
The jangle of the coffee shop door broke you from the festive enchantment, and you pulled your hands from his as you recognised a pair of your colleagues entering.
“Quick! There’s a side door.” Clark ushered you out of sight. “I hope they don’t steal our idea.”
“The bells or the mistletoe?” You asked as you tumbled out into the street.
Clark grinned at you. “Either. Maybe we’ll have to find some more mistletoe to get an extra luck boost, just in case. Although,” he glanced down at his watch, “we don’t have a lot of time left. Any final ideas?”
“Besides more mistletoe?” You nudged him, wondering if the slight pinkness to his cheeks was from more than just the chill air, when another store front caught your eye. “Actually, yes - I have an idea. And you’ll like it, it’s another old one.”
“I don’t only like old things.” Clark protested as you dragged him into the store.
Back at the Daily Planet, arms laden with supplies, you directed the final shot.
“So the snow globe is the white Christmas, and we can use the cotton balls to make a sort of thought bubble. Dream bubble?”
“Dream bubble.” Clark nodded in agreement.
“We should have got some floss or something to string them up with.” You looked around the deserted office for something you could use.
“Or we just lie down.” Clark suggested, opening the packet. “And do a trail of them from our heads around the snow globe. They can stop it rolling away too, if we put it on its side so it’s the right angle for the photo.”
“Perfect! Although I don’t know how clean the floor is.”
Automatically, Clark spread his coat down on the floor. “I think we can both fit on that.”
You smiled at him. “Very chivalrous of you.”
“Of course.” He bowed to you, making you laugh.
The two of you set the scene up quickly, aware that with the challenge ending, the office would soon be filling with your colleagues. As you lay next to him, you couldn’t help wondering if this closeness would keep going after today, or if this would soon be just a warming Christmas memory.
You closed your eyes in mock-sleep as Clark reached above you both to take the photo.
“There,” he said, turning his head to you as he showed you the photo, “I think that’s worked! It was a really great idea.”
“Thanks.” You turned to face him, a glittery feeling erupting in you when your noses almost brushed. “I had to come up with something to match all your great ideas.”
“Mine were nothing.” Clark murmured, his eyes dropping to your lips.
The ding of the elevator had you both half sitting up with a gasp.
“They’ll steal our idea!” Clark hissed as two pairs of footsteps entered the bullpen.
“Will they?” You whispered back with a sceptical giggle.
“Yes! Maybe. We should hide!” He rapidly swept the cotton balls under the nearest desk as you grabbed the snow globe. “Quick!” Clark rolled underneath the desk, pulling you with him. Despite pushing himself as far back as he could go, you could only fit in if you squashed right up against him.
Neither of you seemed to mind.
The ridiculousness of the situation had you about to erupt with laughter, and you clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle it.
“You’ll give us away!” Clark warned between his own huffs of laughter.
As he wrapped his arms around you to keep you safely hidden beneath the desk, you instinctively pressed your face into his chest in an effort to mask the sound of your unstoppable mirth. You could feel his own silent laughter rumbling through him, and feel the warmth of his breath in your hair as you were surrounded by the uniquely Clark smell of him.
With one hand pressed to the swell of his chest, your giggles simmered down, overwhelmed with the glowing awareness of your body fast against his. Clark’s chuckles diminished at the same time, and you were fairly sure you could feel the cool tickle of him breathing you in.
When the sound of your colleagues had passed by, you both held on a moment longer before reluctantly climbing out from under the desk, Clark offering you a hand to help you up - and holding on, his thumb rubbing absent mindedly over your knuckles as though he didn’t want to let you go.
“Now that’s over with.” Perry announces gruffly to the room once everyone’s reassembled - you and Clark having recovered your composure enough to tidy up the evidence of your last photo before the others arrived. “You can all make your way over to the restaurant to get started on the complimentary buffet while the judging panel make our decision, which will be announced after dinner. Don’t eat all the good stuff before we get there!”
Most of the staff splinter back into their usual groups for the food, and you hope the lingering glances you and Clark exchange aren’t noticed by too many others.
When the winner is announced as the Planet’s top culture critic and one of the advertising team, you can’t help feeling a little deflated. You didn’t really care about the competition, but you wanted Clark to win - and for the feeling that you work so well together to be validated.
Later in the evening, when everyone’s mingling over drinks in the darkened bar, Clark catches you in a quiet corner.
“Hey,” he smiles, the glow of the Christmas lights reflecting softly in his glasses, “I’m sorry we didn’t win.”
You smile back. “Well, no amount of enthusiasm was going to beat a slightly terrifying, live action stop motion re-enactment of the final scene in It’s A Wonderful Life.”
“Yeah, I feel like they bent the rules a bit by stitching their photos together like that.”
You shrug. “I'd say it’s more of a loophole.”
“Is that your official, legal opinion?” Clark teases.
You play along. “It is, yes. Technically they were true to the word of the challenge, if not the spirit.” You sip your drink, preparing to be a little vulnerable. “But I feel like we won in a more important way - because I had a really great time with you today.”
Clark’s smile widens, his blue eyes crinkling. “That’s a very non-grinch thing of you to say.”
“I told you I’m not a grinch!” You swat at him as he chuckles.
“I had an amazing time with you today as well.” His gaze turns serious. “I’d love to do it again some time.”
“Recreate Christmas songs?” You ask, taking your turn to tease him.
"Sure." He adjusts his glasses. “Or just - hang out with you. Outside the office. Outside work. If you’d like.”
“I’d like.” You tell him, your smile matching his.
You gaze at each other gooily until Clark straightens, reaching for your hand. “There was one part of today I think we can improve on.” He tells you, leading you out of the bar and away from your co-workers. Once you're outside in the delicate beginnings of falling snow, he pulls something from his pocket with a flourish to hold it above you.
You laugh in delight as you see the glistening white berries. “Mistletoe?”
“Mistletoe. Clearly we didn’t get enough luck earlier today.”
“Clearly.” You step closer.
“And, even if we’re not in a competition, it’s always good to have some luck.”
“I completely agree.” Your breath hangs in the air as Clark closes the small space between you, the hand that isn’t holding the bunch of mistletoe coming to rest on your waist.
You close your eyes as your mouths finally, perfectly meet, soft and warm as you press together, the brief kiss melting into something deeper as you move against each other. You let out a soft moan as Clark runs his tongue over your lower lip, then pull a groan from him in return as you gently tug on his, both clinging closer as you sink into one other.
When you eventually break for breath you’re fizzing from head to toe, eyes wild and lips flushed, one hand grasping his shirt, the other curled in the thick hair at the nape of his neck. Clark’s arms are now wrapped fully around you, mistletoe forgotten on the ground as he holds you as close as he can.
He smiles warmly as you drink each other in, tracing his fingers reverently over your cheek, looking every bit as lovestruck and dishevelled as you feel.
“Merry Christmas.” You whisper.
I wonder what these two will get up to on new year's eve...