sui generis

Superman had an important job tonight.

Tonight did not involve shooting off into space, saving the downtown area from a giant fire-breathing monster, saving civilians from crumbling buildings, or the symbol of House of El stretched across his chest. 

Tonight, the Man of Steel’s only job was to be Clark Kent; the doting fiance with dimpled smiles and mussed curls. 

Your small, shared apartment was cozy tonight. A light snow blew around outside the window, casting the streets with its downy powder. It made the city look soft, almost peaceful. Looking at the idealistic winter scene it was hard to picture the extraterrestrial threat that tore through the harbor the week before.

A record packed with Christmas classics crooned from Clark’s treasured player on the bookshelf. It was one of his favorites, a gift from his Pa a few years back. It made the air feel nostalgic, warm. 

The piece de resistance? The small christmas tree you and Clark had managed to stuff into the living room. It was definitely a bit too bulky to fit without nuisance… but you loved it anyways. The twinkling tree lights cast the room in a warm gleam. Everything seemed to soften under its glow. 

You hum to lilting notes of the current song, shifting on your feet as you debate where to place the next ornament. Some were made of shimmering glass and glitter and others were handmade from paper. 

You were the epitome of comfort. You’d stolen one of Clark’s knit sweaters and you were absolutely drowning in it. It’s warmth protected against the chill trying to seep through the windows. You’d paired it with your softest pair of pajama pants and the ugliest pair of holiday fuzzy socks you owned (Clark had bought matching pairs for the both of you last year as a joke but they turned out to be insanely comfortable).

You can hear your fiance in question bustling around in the kitchen. The man was so bulky that he looked comically small in the space. The alluring scent of rich chocolate soon filled the air. It makes a smile pull at your lips. Clark could never resist an opportunity to make hot cocoa. 

“Clark?” You call gently.

“Yes, honey?”

You hear his footsteps and then the warmth of him at your side. A warm, steaming mug is pressed into your free hand. Hot chocolate, overstuffed with marshmallows. Just the way you like it. A broad hand settles at your hip as he leans into your side. The smell of his laundry detergent and the cologne he’d put on earlier that day wash over you. It makes you want to bury your face in his neck.

Focus, soldier.

You narrow your eyes at the tree like you’re trying to crack a case.

“Where should I put this?” You hold up the final, offending ornament. “Because I feel like there’s too many red ones in that one section so it can’t go there but the other side has a perfect ratio of paper to normal ornaments and I can’t throw that off…” 

Clark huffs beside you, evidently amused.

“I think it’d look great anywhere.”

“That’s not helpful.” You murmur, sending him a sidelong glance.

And your breath promptly catches in your throat. He’s so devastatingly handsome. His dark hair is mussed and the lights from the tree glint in his eyes. There’s that stupid dimple in his cheek as he gives you a soft smile. You can’t help but lift on your toes to press a kiss there.

“But you’re cute so I’ll let it slide.” That makes him laugh.

With a defeated sigh, you hand him the ornament.

“I’ll give you the honors, I’m out of ideas.”

As he sets off to find the perfect place for the final decoration, you take a sip of the drink in your hand. It’s warm but it’s no longer hot enough to scald your tongue. It’s sweet and warms your belly.

Clark returns to your side and you both admire the almost-completed tree.

“How’s that, sweetheart?” He asks.

“Perfect.”

He presses a kiss into your hair and you can feel the smile there. You lean into his side, utterly content.

“Want me to lift you so you can put the star on top?

You practically beam.

“Absolutely.”

He’s so so careful as he, effortlessly, lifts you off the ground. It’s all perfectly calculated super strength, it makes you dizzy. He’s so perfect.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you gently set the topper at just the right angle at the top of the tree.

Clark gently brings you down to Earth again, taking the opportunity to wrap his broad arms around your waist and tuck you close. He settles his head against your shoulder, admiring the tree with you. It’s a beacon of color and light in your living room. It’s the closest to Christmas magic you’ve felt since childhood. This was your first Christmas together as fiancés… and by this time next year, you’ll have your first as husband and wife.

As if he’s heard your mushy thoughts, he turns his head to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. 

“I love you.” Clark offers his affection easily… it’s never something that has to be earned or asked for. It just… pours out of him. As if he can’t help it.

“I love you too.” The murmur is quiet, laced with love.

The record switches its tune, there’s a soft crackling before the next song comes to life. It’s something a little slower. Something sung by a man from many years past, that makes you think of sleigh rides, snow covered trees, and the comfort of a roaring fire.

Clark gently turns you in his arms. One hand settles at your hip, guiding you so close that your chests brush against one another. The other takes your hand on his own. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, reverent. He begins to sway softly. It’s hardly a dance but you let him guide you into it anyways.

Your free arm settles at his broad shoulder, feeling the way his muscle strains the fabric of his button up. You lean your head against his chest with a content noise.

“You’re such a sap.” You murmur against him. There’s a smile in your voice.

“You love it.” The rumbling of his voice can be felt where you rest against him.

A delicate huff leaves you but you don’t argue.

Because you do, you love it and you love him.