snowed-in at clark's place
ship: clark kent x f! reader (friends → lovers') (slow-burn) (mutual pining)
content warnings: (sfw) snowed-in with forced proximity, only one bed trope, slow-burn with emotional intimacy, light sexual tension, non graphic kissing, domestic softness, power outage, mutual pining, clark being a gentle giant, christmas music being a menace (baby it's cold outside)
word count: 4k
author's note: hi my loves 🤍
welcome to kinkmas day 19! this fic is about warmth, inevitability, and the kind of slow surrender that doesn’t need to rush. it’s snowed-in, one bed, mutual pining, and a first kiss that means something. make yourself something warm, get comfortable, and enjoy 🤍 — lae 🍓⭐️
now playing: baby it's cold outside by dean martin
(photo credits to pinterest, edits and coloring by me)
the snow starts off slow, and light, like it's suggesting to it's presence be known. that's what clark calls it when the first flake drifts past the clear window of his apartment. it's light and a little hesitant, like it's asking permission before committing. he's standing at the glass with a mug of hot creamy milk chocolate semi-forgotten in his large hands.
his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, just slightly as he squints out at the metropolis skyline, the clouds covering, the sun shinning dimly. "well, it's just flurries." he says, his voice filled with certainty. "they'll pass." you hum softly, from the couch, curled into the corner with your boots kicked off.
your coat folded neatly over the armrest, because clark hovered until you did so properly. outside, the city glowed softly in silver, lights blurring into something almost romantic. inside, his apartment smelled like christmas wrapped in a bow, cinnamon, and clean laundry. with a hint of something warm, and simmering gently onto the stove.
clark checks his phone, clicking onto his weather app. he tries to refresh it. you watch him with utter fond amusement, the way his brow furrows. the way he's tilting his head like the app might confess something new, if he looks at it long enough. "clark." your voice just on the edge of teasing. "you're going to stress yourself out into a headache."
he glances back at you, his glasses on the edge of his nose, before he pushes them up. his expression caught, sheepishly. "i just like to be informed." you tilt your head, coming to a stance. "you refreshed it four times already." he looks at you, his eyes squinted."yes..." he says earnestly. "but it might've changed." you laughed, soft, airy, almost mystical.
his shoulders eased just a little, like that was the goal all along. to hear your magnetic laugh. he blushed, his ears tinged pink slightly. his gaze dropping to check his phone. ten minutes later, the flurries turned purposeful. the snow thickened, with wind picking up in speed, swallowing the headlights and street sound wholely.
metropolis began to disappear in real time, buildings dissolving into white, traffic lights glowing like distant stars. the street lights blearing into green streams, and white. clark straightens slowly, something settling in his chest as he watches. "uh... okay..." he admits, his voice low. "that's new." his brows furrowed as a gust slams into the window hard enough to rattle it.
you flinch at the harsh motion, clark doesn't. not because he's unbothered, but because he's already moving. checking his lock, and the deadbolts. adjusting his thermostat, and doing his usual quick sweep of his apartment. almost comically like the storm is something he can out-prepare. "it's supposed to taper off."
his voice low, in a mutter, more to himself now. "but, uh. i guess it looks like you're staying." you tilt your head. "you sure?" his head nods immediately, a bit too fast. "yeah. the roads won't be safe. it'd be irresponsible otherwise." concern, wraps its way neatly in practicality. it was one of clark kent's favourite disguise.
dinner certainly becomes an event. clark refused to order in on principle, something about delivery drivers and icy roads. he insisted on soup, as he's already started. he moves arounf his kitchen, with a quiet competence. his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair a bit rumpled from running his hands through it. there's something deeply comforting about watching him here, in his element.
like this is who he is, when no one is watching. you're perched on his counter, your legs swinging quietly, softly. "you cook like you're feeding a family of six." you tease. "well..." he says seriously, his body moving strategically. "you never know who might need it." the answer settles warm and heavy in your chest.
his hands move to grab what he needs to make hot chocolate efrom scratch. he starts to sjave the chocolate carefully, warming the milk slowly so it doesnt curdle. adding a pinch of cinnamon, almost with a ceremonial reverence. "that packet's taste suspicious." he explains, pushing his glasses back up again. "they're hiding something."
you smiled, when he hands you a mug, your fingers brushing briefly. neother of you pulls away fast enough. clark's breath hitches, it's subtle but you catch onto it. he radio hummed quietly in the background, old and warm, filling the apartment with nostalgia. when baby it's cold outside, comes on you both look at each other with notice.
clark clears his throat, "golly, that feels... targeted." you murmur softly, "mhm, just a bit." he smiles anyway, it's open and unguarded. the kind of smile that just makes your stomach flip. dinner is slow, but easy. you sit close on the couch, your knees brushing, shoulders bumping when you both would laugh.
outside, the storm committed fully, the world seemed narrow until it felt like nothing existed beyond clark's apartment. the lights flickered, with the warm glow of his warm lighting blinking. he froze, he quipped quickly. "they always do that, it's fine!" he tried to brush it off, lightly.
lights blinking again and then— darkness. the radio cuts mid-lyric. you inhaled sharply, "okay." clark says, his voice calm, steady. his voice grounded, "totally okay." he moved through the dark with certainty, striking a match and lighting the fireplace.
flames blossomed, golden and alive, shadows danced across the walls. the radio crackled back on in the distance, faint and humming through the backup power. "pre-pared madam?" clark says with a quiet pride. your smile beamed at him. you borrowed one his his sweaters without asking, well he offered it instantly.
you tugged it over your head with careful hands. it's oversized, and swallows you whole. the material is worn, and soft, the sleeves long enough to create a overhang on your hands. it smells like him, linen and warmth, something undeniably clark. he noticed the way you just sank into iy. "looks... good." he says, the apple of his cheeks blurred pink, like he's said too much already.
the power doesn't come back, once another harsh blow shook the window. time stretches, conversations fading into a deamable comfortable silence. thw sotrm howled outside like it intended to stay. eventually, clark hesitates in the hall. "so..." he begings, rubbing the back of his neck.
"there's uh... one bed." you raised a brow, "i can take the couch." he adds quickly, "it's very supportive." you take a moment to look at him, really look at him. "clark." you start, but his voice stops you. "i just don't want you to be uncomfortable." you soften, shaking your head as you murmur. "i won't be." he exhaled, tension bleeding out of him.
"oh, okay, but i'll build a pillow barrier." you chuckle, "for safety?" he shakes his head, his usual flush returned. "of course."
the bedroom is dim, lit by the glow of the fire place and pale glow of snow through the curtains. clark folds back the covers carefully, cozy and domestic, like the bed might judge him. at first, you both lie apart, backs nearly touching. just a mere inches of space between you deliberate.
clark's breathing is steady but restrained, hands folded over his chest like he doesn't trust them. the wind seeps in through the warmth, you shiver momentarily. goosebumps cover your arms, he feels it instantly. "you're cold." he murmurs. "oh, it's fine." your voice soft, tight almost. "it's not." he hesitates, then softer, "can i?"
you turn, your eyes meeting his eyes in the low light. without his glasses he looks younger somehow. more open. "yes, please." clark moves closer, slowly giving you time to change your mind. his arm comes around you, tentative at first, firmer when you lean into his chest. his warmth envelops you, it's solid, grounding, unmistakable.
"just for warmth." he whispers, his head resting on top of yours. "obviously." minutes pass, them more. the pillow barrier collapses somewhere near his knee, forgotten. his thumb traces abscent circles against your sleeve, slow and unconscious. your breathing syncs with his. the space between you two disappears without either of you noticing exactly when.
the sweater rides up slightly at your waist. clark's thumb brushes against your bare skin. you inhale sharply. clark's voice hurriedly replies, "i... sorry." your voice is above a murmur, "it's okay." you say softly, "you don't have to keep apologizing." he stills for a moment. "are you sure?" his voice quiter now. "yes." and the word settles heavy between you two.
his hand stays this time, warmer and with purpose. the radio hums faintly from the other room, as the power kicks back on. baby it's cold outside, threads through the silence like a private joke. the universe getting a kick out of it, and refusing to let go of. you shift, turning fully into him. your knees brushes his thigh, his breath catches audibly. "you're warm now." his smile soft, with a light murmur.
"i guess you fixed it." he smiles, eyes flicking to your lips. "guess so." the kiss starts soft, barely there. like he's testing the moment, his lips are warm. they're hesitant but reverent. when it deepens, your hands tangle into the tuffs of his curls. it's unhurried, exploratory, like clark's memorizing the feeling rather than chasing it.
his hands slide from oyur waist to your back, fingers splayed there. holding you closer like it was a natural instinct, the tempation finally won. you hands slide to his shoulder, and back to his neck, your fingers curling into his curls once more. clark sighs quietly into the kiss, a sound that settles deep in your chest.
when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. he breathes, "wow." you smile, "yeah... who woudl've guessed kent." he kisses you once more, slower this time, sweeter almost. your bodies fit together easily now, limbs tangled without a thought. his hand stays at your waist, his thumb tracing slow, deliberately steady lines that make your breath ease.
eventually sleep comes, it inviites you like a heavy, inevitable wave. just before you drift off, he pressed a final kiss to your temple. "you can stay." he murmurs, "even after the snow clears." you smile, already half asleep. "i wasn't planning on leaving.
morning comes gently, sunlight spills across the room. the rays, pale and quiet, snow blankets the city, muffling everything. you wake tangled together. clark's glasses abandoned on the nightstand, his arm still wrapped around you like it belongs there.
when he stirs, his eyes blinking awake, his blue eyes open, he smiles instantly. his body feels sleepy and unguarded. "guess we're snowed in." he murmurs. you smile back, "i guess so." the radio clicks on softly. baby it's cold outside.
clark laughs quietly, deep rumble as his forehead rests against yours. "you think the universe planned that?" you shrugged within his grasp. "i think it just knew you'd take care of me." he kisses your hair, gentle and sure. outside, the storm long gone and settled, passed and let go. inside, neither you or clark decided to spend the morning apart.
author's note cont: thank you so much for reading! 🤍
this fic was written to feel like a quiet rom-com winter movie. it's the kind that you don't want to end. lingering touches and a snow storm with forced proximity. clark doesn't fall fast but when he does, it's very intentional. if you felt the vibes with this one, then it did exactly what i hoped for. as always, thank you for being here and sharing this little corner of softness with me.
all my love, lae 🤍
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