part brutal, part ideal

“He sent another fifty,” you say.

“Oh my god.” 

Your phone starts to ring in your hand, Clark’s profile photo in the middle of the screen: his sleeping face tucked over your heart. You giggle to yourself as you answer, doughy bread in your mouth. “Hi, sorry, I’m chewing.”

“That’s okay, honey,” he says, sounding cheerful and worried all at once, “what’s up? Is that gonna be enough?”

“Oh, er, my card declined. I’m getting lunch with Cat.”

“Downstairs? I can come down, sweetheart, I have my wallet.” 

“No, I already paid for it.” 

“Aw, great, I was worried for a second there.”

“I can send it right back to you, now,” you say, feeling ever so slightly guilty. You don’t know what you were expecting, but his urgency makes you wanna kiss him stupid, not trick him further. “Thank you, for– for being so quick. You saved me the embarrassment.”

“That’s okay, I don’t need it back–”

“Well, no, I can’t keep a hundred dollars just ‘cos you sent it, baby, I– my card declined, but it was the card reader, that’s all.” 

“Just keep whatever you paid for lunch, then, and use the rest for lunch tomorrow.”

“It’s a sandwich." 

“Then you can have sandwiches all week.”

You meet Cat’s eyes, failing to hide your unyielding elation. He’s such a catch. “Okay. Clark, I’m sending it back, okay?” 

“Don’t tease me, I got so excited.” 

You laugh and hang up on him. 

Clark texts you ten seconds later: If you send it back to me I’m gonna send it back to you. Have a good break, see you later? <3

“I bet he will,” Cat says, having read the screen upside down. 

You text Clark back: Yes!! Can I come home with you? 

Yeah honey meet me by the elevators? I’ll be waiting for you 

“He is such a dork,” Cat says, eyebrows raised. “But I’m happy for you.” 

You’re feeling pretty good about it all yourself. You and Cat finish lunch and head your mildly separate ways. You’re in the print room today supervising, and it stretches into the uneventful afternoon. By finishing time, you’re excited to give Clark a kiss and sneak his hundred dollars back into his pocket somehow, but he’s not waiting by the elevator. 

It’s tempting to keep the money. He did sound excited for you to keep it, as strange as that might be. He rejected your offer to give it back, then tried to compromise that you could keep it. He'd pay for your lunch all week. 

Would he give you money for nothing at all? He was just worried, right? But when there was no problem, he didn’t want it back. 

It doesn’t hurt to poke around a little. 

Clark exits the elevator with a blank expression. When he sees you waiting a few feet away with your shoulders on the wall, his face lights up. His eyebrows soften, his lips lift and go white from the force of his smile. 

“Let’s go home,” he says, grinning as he wraps his arm around you from the small of your back. 

You lean up and kiss his jaw. “Today was long.” 

“Too long, bubby.” 

Bubby. You give him a harmless shove, but Clark pulls you right back in. Keeps his arm on you all the way home, give the few seconds getting off of the tram, where he offers his hand to guide you onto the road. 

“So,” you say, “about earlier…”

“What happened earlier?”

“With the money.”

Clark narrows his eyes at you. “What about it? Honey, I already told you to keep it. It was yours the second I sent it.” 

“No, it’s not– Clark. I would much rather you take it back, I really don’t need a hundred dollars for a sandwich I already paid for. It was this–” You pause, giving him a bashful, sorry smile. “Cat wanted me to see if you’d complain or not, I guess. So I lied about my card declining, sorry. I am actually sorry, and I can’t keep the money in good conscience.”

“Ooh, in good conscience,” he murmurs, mirroring your smile, though his is more of a smirk. “Well, that’s okay. If you feel bad about it, send it back to me, no hard feelings.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Thank you, handsome,” you say. 

“What else is on your mind?”

“You… this isn’t supposed to sound like you need to say yes, but I guess I was wondering if you would’ve sent me it no matter what? My text literally just said can you send me money. I didn’t even say please, and I didn’t say it’s an emergency or anything.”

Clark shrugs at you. “Yeah, I would’ve sent it to you. I don’t care what it was for.”

“Clark, it was a hundred dollars.”

“Do you think you’re not worth a hundred dollars?”

“Not for no reason.” 

“In the moment, I assumed it was an emergency because you never ask me for anything, do you?” 

“Not really.”

“Would it shock you to know that I wish you would?” A curl falls onto his forehead, just above his dark brow. “You are the most important woman in my life. A hundred is nothing compared to that. I don’t really care what you want it for.” 

You’re pretty sure that’s an I love you. Maybe he’s saving the real thing for somewhere more intimate than the street, but that’s gotta be close. 

“Keep the money,” he says, kissing your cheek quickly. “I was still gonna send it back, even if you were just satisfying your curiosity. You didn’t lie to get it, you lied after.”

“You’re such a reporter,” you grumble, secretly very pleased. “Poking holes in my argument.”

(Clark sends you $50 the next day at lunch, with the text: Buy yourself dinner or whatever you want, do not send it back! 

Then: Please just take it. For my gratification if nothing else. Please!!

You text back: you’re being pervy