a/n: not proofread, ive been lowkey addicted to stateside bruh.
“kissing my swedish boy over facetime” - Stateside, PinkPantheress + Zara Larsson
Clark was staying in Smallville for a week, to help out at his parents house because they’ve been having problems with security and their, quote, “too-modern-appliances.”
You, due to work, couldn’t join him. No matter how much Ma and Pa Kent insisted you come over, take a break from work, you just couldn’t.
You haven’t been meeting deadlines lately, and your boss keeps latching on your back because of it. You might even get laid off if you didn’t catch up on all the piling work.
So, with guilt settling deep in the bottom of your heart, you had to say no. You hug Clark one last time before he grabs his suitcase and flies off to Smallville.
Though you’ve told him multiple times not to simply fly over like that in civilian clothes, he never seems to listen. You could tell he was excited to see his parents, even if he was going to have to leave you for a bit.
“It’ll be super quick! You won’t even miss me. It’s just in a blink, and I’ll be back!”
He was more trying to convince himself than convince you.
You watch as his figure disappears between buildings and blue skies, letting out a small sigh. He promised he’d call everyday, so that was a bonus.
—
Clicking away at your laptop, hunched over a small desk in a small office full of people yelling in meetings and debates over the coffee machine.
After finishing up your third report, you lean back and stretch your limbs, cracking your neck. A familiar voice calls your name from behind.
Looking back, you see your boss with a stern look on his face and his lanky arms crossed over his chest. “Did you need something, sir?” You say, grinding your teeth together as you smile.
“Yes. I’m still waiting for that presentation. The meetings in an hour, and I haven’t heard a peep.”
“Sir, you asked me to complete my reports before i got to that—-“
“You see? This is your problem. You always have an excuse for something, because you can’t complete it. Don’t bore me. Just get your work done and send it.”
He leaves, and you internally curse him out for being the worst. You’ve always complained about him to Clark, and he’s always begged you to quit your job. He says he’s made enough for the both of you, but you can see him stressing over bills after a nice dinner out.
The only thing you want to do is help him. And maybe that’s why you’re still at this stupid 9-5 job, working your ass off while being humiliated by your boss in front of the office.
One day, you’ll quit. That’s what you tell yourself.
Your attention is brought back to your laptop, a notification about a deadline from your boss. Willing yourself not to bang your head against your desk, you abandon the previous report you were working on, and start on the presentation he asked for.
—
Getting home, you kick your shoes off at the front door and flop onto the couch. You can’t even be bothered to get food, even though you’ve been starving the whole day.
Like a reminder, your stomach growls so loud your neighbours would think you’re being devoured by a lion. You can’t even bothered to take your phone to order takeout.
You look out the window, as if Clark would suddenly fly back if you stared long enough. Of course, it didn’t work, but if you put your mind to it, anything can happen.
You fish your phone out your purse, hoping there’s stil battery.
Clicking on buttons and probably getting more food than you can eat, you press order and pray it’ll come before you die of hunger.
The house feels empty, a silence settling over the atmosphere. There’s no Clark to ramble about a show he saw, no Clark to talk about how everything’s at work, there’s no Clark.
You snuggle into yourself, curling up into a ball on the couch. Sleep slowly falls over you, and your eyelids feel heavy.
Work was stressful, Clark is gone for a week, and all your friends are just as swamped with life. No one was here.
You consider sobbing your eyes out, not caring if the neighbours can hear or not. Everything just hurts. No one was here to listen to you to complain about life, no one was here to hug you after.
Your phone rings suddenly, and you pray it’s your food. Picking it up and staring at the screen for a moment, it’s not.
‘Clark 💘’ is calling…
Your heart fills with hope, feeling a weight lift off you. Though you always try to tell yourself you’re fine without him, you can’t imagine a life without him being right next to you.
You answer his video call, at least trying to make yourself presentable.
“Hey, love.” He smiles. He’s already in bed, a cotton gray shirt on and his hair mussed up. He looks too big for his childhood bed, no longer the little boy he showed you pictures of.
“Clark.” You smile back. “You look… tired.” Whispering quietly into the empty apartment. “I am.” He sighs, shutting his eyes for a moment.
“Been doing chores for Ma. Fixed everything up that they couldn’t. Still another 4 days of this.” He lets out a chuckle, leaning his head back into the pillow.
“Mm.. that’s nice.” You both let the words linger, letting them settle deep. Finally, you say, “I miss you. A lot.”
“Aw, sweetheart.” He opens one eye. God, he’s so handsome. “‘m missing you too. More than I should. Wish you were here with me. Cuddled up into my side… miss kissing you.”
Scoffing playfully, you roll your eyes. “I miss kissing you too. I guess.”
“You guess?” He sits up suddenly, almost offended. “I am the best kisser. Ever.”
“Don’t be cocky, Clark.”
“I am!” He laughs, a bit too loud for the quiet farm he’s on.
“Give me a kiss then.” You say. He looks at you for a moment. “You want me to fly over?” You shake your head.
“No, I mean… through the screen.” Giggling, you imagine his lips pressed to his phone. He gapes. “You want me to kiss my camera? What if Ma comes in and thinks I’m crazy?”
“You already are.”
—-
Eventually, after long bickering, you manage to convince him to just do it.
Hesitantly, he lowers his lips to the camera, and you end up longing for those soft, pink lips that were usually always available to you.
He kisses the camera, and you press your lips to the screen too, before realizing how stupid you look and pull away.
“Told you I’m a good kisser. Bet the phone wants more.”
