Boy Toy | Clark Kent | One-Shot
Plot: You and your best friend indulge in your inner child and buy some toys at the toy store, you caved and bought a Superman figurine. You never expected it to actually come to life. [WC: 8K]
Warnings: Nothing much. Inaccurate portrayal of your parents. Reader is mid-20s and very inexperienced romantically. Jealous, logical, and cynical MC I’m sorry. Also holy cow this plot is so stupid.
Disclaimers: The only Superman media the author has consumed is the 2025 movie so important lore might be missing. This fic was written 1 year before Man of Tomorrow comes out, so if Man of Tomorrow is actually really bad I had no idea.
It’s 7:35, which means you’re officially unloveable.
Michael from Hinge was supposed to meet you at 7 PM for dinner, but he hasn’t sent a message since yesterday’s “See you tomorrow :)” .
You’ve called three extra times and sent a couple of ‘Are you comings' to no response. You sigh and grab your phone, fingers ready to type the dreaded words. You: I’m pretty sure he’s not coming.
A loud “THAT BASTARD!” can be heard from across the restaurant as your best friend, Elora, approaches from her secret hiding spot.
Because, of course your best friend wanted to make sure you were safe in the creepiest way possible.
She huffily sits down in the empty chair in front of you and silently hands you a tissue.
“It’s okay, babe, I thought he was ugly anyways.” She says, patting your hand with an extra cheerful tone.
You thank her for the tissue but shake your head. “Relax, Elora, I’m not gonna cry over a guy from Hinge… I just wish I could go on a normal date like a normal person for once.”
Elora senses the tremble in your voice and immediately calls over a waiter and orders two servings of ice cream, her treat.
You sulk until your order arrives, complaining about all the red flags you should’ve spotted, and previous pick-up lines you’ve received that you never responded to.
“Who needs guys like Michael anyways? Fictional men are where it’s at!” She declares, stuffing her mouth with vanilla ice cream. “We need to find you a man like Ryland Grace.” You scoff, rolling your eyes at the girl. “Men who actually wanna save the world only exist in comic books, they’re not real.”
Elora gives you a sad smile, patting your hand mournfully.
Suddenly, her eyes widened, a thought popping into her head. “Speaking of men who wanna save the world, I know what will make you feel better.”
You immediately know what she’s talking about. You’d always liked Superman, but the spark that really ignited your passion for him was the movie that came out two years ago.
You haven’t had a fictional crush since you were a teenager watching Spider-man: Homecoming for the first time, but something about that movie really made me realise how great of a character he truly was.
It wasn’t just the laser eyes and flying powers that got to you (though admittedly they were pretty cool), you genuinely loved his personality and the way he was able to inspire people to be a little bit kinder. You always wished you could find a guy who had that sense of heroic justice that he had.
You even shook Elora every time he came on screen during Supergirl last year, which is how she realised just how bad the obsession had gotten.
You had scheduled your date with Michael on the first day Man of Tomorrow was supposed to come out. Maybe you were secretly hoping that he’d read your mind and ask if you wanted to watch the movie after you two ate dinner. You’re lost in thought when Elora pays the bill. She grabs your hand and runs to the cinema on the top floor of the mall with you.
You realised you didn’t need a man to see the movie with you, you needed a friend.
You felt a lot better. Seeing Superman really just lifts your spirits and makes you a bit happier. Okay, a lot happier.
“Let’s go to Toys ‘R Us!” Elora screams as she drags you to the store. She’s surprisingly strong for a 5’4 Filipino girl.
As you two enter the colourful room, she immediately spots a rack of cheap plastic toys. “OOO! Look at this!”
She points to a small man in a plastic case with a tiny glitter bottle next to him.
Grow-A-Boyfriend!
Leave him in water overnight, sprinkle the growing dust, and watch how he grows!
“Oh, so it’s like one of those cheap capsule dinosaurs?” You ask, mildly unimpressed.
Elora’s enthusiasm doesn’t waver. “He’s a pure soul, uncorrupted by the evils of the patriarchy, and he’s made to love me!” She nearly swoons as she holds the tiny toy, unaware of the judgy cashier behind her.
You nod slowly, not judging her at all, but you definitely wouldn’t say a tiny plastic man is your ideal type.
You wander towards the boys section of the store, looking for those cute ugly dolls your friends have gotten obsessed with. You aimlessly roam, stopping at every cute Funko-Pop or Spider-man Lego set, but you come to a halt when something catches your eye.
A Superman figurine. It’s the one based on David Corenswet, but his face is slightly different. His stance is confident, like he’s ready to fight some plastic Lex Luthor.
You feel instinctually drawn to it, gently grabbing the box and observing the price. It’s just short of $30, but for some reason you feel the urge to buy it.
You haven’t spent money on something that wasn’t necessary for a while, and your date bounced on you, which means you didn’t have to pay for dinner. You had a couple dollars to spend on yourself, why not spend it on something that makes you happy?
“Growing a boyfriend~!” Elora sings as she unpacks the tiny man from his plastic prison. You turn on the bathtub faucet and wait for the water to start filling the space. You and Elora got very emotional in the car and decided to have a sleepover in your tiny apartment. And yes, maybe you did try to kiss your action figure a couple of times, it was to make Elora laugh, you swear!
You childishly hug your action figure tightly with one hand, filming Elora with the other. Girly laughs echo throughout the tiny bathroom. “Why aren’t we just doing this in a bowl again?” You ask, rubbing your eyes, getting slightly tired. You place the Superman figure down on the side of the tub, and he watches as you and your best friend playing with toys.
She pouts at you. “Because we don’t know how big he’ll grow!”
“That’s what she said.” You laugh, groggily. You point at the Superman figure and in your sleepy daze, you swear he smiles back at you.
Elora smacks you lightly and drops the tiny man into the water. She opens the bottle of ‘magic glitter’ and spreads it into the water. You hope you don’t have to clean up all of that later.
“Alright, let’s sleeeeeeeep!!!” Elora drags you once again, this time out of the bathroom and into your bed, slamming the bathroom door hard.
You don’t even realise you left Superman in there, and you don’t even hear when he falls into the bathtub.
You wake up to the smell of pancakes and bacon. You wipe the sleep from your eyes and inhale the scent. Your best friend never cooks, so this is an insanely pleasant surprise.
“Elora, you didn’t have too…” you laugh, tiredly, getting up from bed, pushing the blanket off you and putting on your house slippers.
“Have to what?” She mumbles.
Your heart fell to your feet when you realised Elora was right next to you, still mostly asleep in your bed. She tugs the blanket tighter and rolls away to face the window.
Who the fuck is in your kitchen?
You cautiously grab a baseball bat from under your bed, warning Elora to stay where she is as you crawl out of your room.
You hear the faint sound of somebody whistling as the kitchen comes into view. You hear your heartbeat in your head as you draw your bat, and the minute you see a man in blue and red, you swing the bat as hard as you can.
And it breaks.
“Hi, hone- OW!” A deep voice says. The man in your kitchen clutches his arm lightly as you stare at the broken wood in your hand.
“Shit!” You scream in panic, stumbling into the ground, trying to back away as you start to get a clear view of the man’s face.
He tries to calm you down, putting his hands up. “Woah, there, I know you’re scared-”
“Get out of my house!” You yell, throwing the end of your broken bat at him.
Why the hell is this intruder in a Superman costume? You look up as you back into your wall. Why does he look vaguely like David Corenswet?
The man turns back to the stove and turns off the fire. You take deep breaths when he places the cooking bacon onto a plate with eggs on it.
“Who are you?” You sigh out, voice trembling slightly.
You can see the side of his lips curl into a smile as he grabs a spoon and fork.
“I think you know.” He says, placing the utensils next to the eggs.
Elora slowly walks in, you see her in the corner of your eye and start to scoot near her while the intruder isn’t looking.
“Who is that?” She whispers. You shake your head in response.
The strange man places two plates on the table, both filled with eggs and bacon. He looks up at you two, with a look that feels oddly kind.
“Eat up, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
You look around, almost as if I’m searching for cameras when you notice the bathroom door is open, and there’s a wet glittery trail leading from the bathroom to the kitchen.
Actually, the man himself is covered in the same glitter Elora used last night. You immediately get up and sprint to the bathroom, the Superman cosplayer tilting his head as you do.
In the bathroom there’s the boyfriend toy, about ten times bigger than he was last night, but not at all big enough to fill the entire bathtub. You left your Superman figurine in here last night, but he’s missing.
You scratch your head at this, your mind trying to create theories that die in seconds. You peek out the bathroom door and see Elora sitting down on the table, somehow not looking scared at all, and sitting in front of the man.
You slowly enter the kitchen-dining room again, hands clenching. Elora’s eyes catch you and she mouths ‘What are you doing?’.
“I’m not gonna hurt him…” You mutter. You grab the end of his red cape and pull it up. It’s still slightly wet.
‘McFarlane Toys™
Made In China’
There it is, printed on the back of his suit.
You drop the cape and it hits the ground.
“Whad’ya see there?” He asks.
Your action figure asks.
You stare at him, frowning, your thoughts going wild.
“How did you get here?” You interrogate, taking a seat next to Elora.
He smiles again, it’s an encouraging smile. “I hate to say this again, but I think you know.”
Elora inhales her plate, eyes switching back and forth between you and the man in front of her.
You take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose. “You’re a… toy?”
Superman nods eagerly, crossing his arms. “I’m Superman. You bought me.”
You put your face in your hands, pure disbelief runs through you. “This is not real, this is not real, this is not real.”
“May I touch you?” He asks. It shocks you slightly, but you give a hesitant nod. “Uh… sure.”
Superman places a hand on yours, squeezing tightly. “I’m here.”
Elora jumps up. “Does that mean that my Grow-A-Boyfriend is real?!” She sprints to the bathroom. Superman and you watch as she enters, only to be quickly followed by a disappointed “Awww…”
Your eyes turn back to Superman. “What do you remember?”
He gave a short laugh and scratched the back of his neck. “Woof, that’s a hard one…”
He taps on the table with his fingers before he looks back at me. “My clearest memories… I remember waking up in the tub, wet and covered in glitter. I got out and opened the bathroom door to see the sun rising as you two were still fast asleep.”
“How do you know I was the one that bought you?” You ask, still confused.
He explains. “I have vaguer memories, more distant ones, and some that feel almost as if I was built with them. I have this blurry recollection of people walking around the store I was in, passing me by, and I remember the moment you saw me and picked me up for the first time.”
“What are the memories you feel built in with?” You ask again, Elora has now returned and sits back down with you, holding her boyfriend toy in her hands.
Superman looks into the distance. “Memories of Metropolis, the Daily Planet, Ma and Pa’s farm, Krypto, Lois, Kara, Jimmy… I remember them but the memories don’t feel the same as the memories I have of you. Not as real, like they were programmed into me.”
You nod, starting to process all of this. You look the man up and down, he looks like a real human. Well, not exactly. His skin has texture, but it’s still almost uncannily smooth, he doesn’t have a single hair out of place, and his suit looks nearly fused to his body. It’s almost scary.
You know magic isn’t real, but what else could explain what’s happening in front of you?
You dust off the glitter from his cape, to which he gives an appreciative “Thank you.”
Elora shakes you slightly, also suddenly processing all of this. “Did we just make Superman real?”
You tracked the time, it’s been more than 3 hours, and he hasn’t disappeared. You haven’t woken up, or died from carbon monoxide poisoning yet. He’s even gone to use the bathroom a couple of times.
He seems oddly attached to you as well, constantly trying to sit next to you and see what you’re doing. The only time he’s put space between you two was when noon hit and he decided to make you three some lunch. You never realised how cramped this apartment feels with 3 grown adults in it.
Elora is still around, trying to help you deal with the situation.
“We can’t just keep him locked up in here, it feels wrong… but we can’t really let him go out looking like that.” She gestures to his brightly coloured attire, and you nod in agreement.
You tap your feet against the carpeted floor nervously, picking at the skin on your fingers.
“I’d like some new clothes, if it isn’t too much trouble.” He politely inputs as he cooks up some luncheon meat.
You feel bad rejecting the ask, so you think about it for a few seconds before you sigh and agree, there’s a shopping mall connected to your apartment building anyways.
You can’t let what’s essentially a living breathing human being stay trapped in your apartment.
“It’s fine, people might just assume he’s cosplaying since Man of Tomorrow is still on its opening weekend.” You rationalise. “We go after lunch.”
“Dude, nice cosplay!”
“Dad, it’s Superman!”
“I’m sorry to bother, are you David Corenswet?”
“Oh no, he’s just our friend in a costume, sorry!” You quickly mutter, trying to escape the situation.
“Can I at least have a photo?” A woman asks.
Superman nods, you and Elora get handed three different phones, taking pictures of at least five different people.
Once everyone has dispersed, you and Elora push Superman into the first store you see, which luckily was the Mall’s department store. People still stare and whisper, but you try to pay no mind.
You hand Superman your credit card. “Elora and I will just be around, don’t spend more than $70.”
He happily accepts with a big thank you, as he grabs a basket and starts to fill it with pants, jackets, and flannels. He picks out outfits you swear you’ve seen him wear in Smallville, it’s comically fitting, the red and blue fabrics fit him perfectly.
A child approaches Superman, screaming “Mom, Mama, it’s Supaman!!!”
Superman greets the kid, looking at the two women for permission before carrying the child and spinning around.
He whispers something you can’t hear that makes the kid giggle, and you can’t help but smile despite the fact you want him to keep a low profile.
Elora catches you staring and nudges you. “Hey, you’re blushing.”
You glare at her. “What the hell? No, I’m not! That’s a walking action figure.”
Elora shrugs and rolls her eyes, playfully, at you. “Whatever you say…”
After a few minutes, you get distracted on your phone, but Superman finds you again at the entrance of the store, and he gently pokes your shoulder.
“Could you, uh, follow me to the changing room? I need some help… taking the suit off.” He whispers in your ear, with a slight blush on his face that reminds you he’s also Clark Kent.
You awkwardly nod, refusing to look at your best friend who you know is wiggling her eyebrows at you right now.
You guide him to the changing room and make sure no employees are watching as you enter with Superman.
The tiny room is cramped, with the big man in front of you taking most of the space. He turns around to face the mirror and you take a few seconds to examine his body, trying to figure out how to do this. You remember at breakfast his suit seemed attached to his skin, but now it looks like it’s just skin tight.
He notices you staring and chuckles lightly. “It’s behind my…”
“Got it.” You assure him as you slowly lift up his cape, finding a zipper.
“I’m kinda surprised the suit isn’t just fused into your body, it wasn’t removable when you were a toy.” You observe.
He shrugs, shivering slightly as you pull the zipper down and the air hits his back for the first time.
“Thanks, uh, I can-”
You understand what he’s trying to say and you exit the changing room, finding a seat to sit on. How fucking weird is this situation?
After a few minutes, he comes out, dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, he apparently already has socks, but no shoes, you shake your head and hope that’s a problem for later.
You’re sort of in awe, he looks like he’s just come home from the office, the clothes look like they always belonged to him. You give him a thumbs up to which he smiles.
“That’s it?” He asks playfully.
You scoff. “It looks good, Superman.”
“Clark.” He corrects, with his index finger pointing up. “You can call me Clark.”
Your cheeks heat up slightly for no reason. “You look good, Clark. You look really… human.”
For some reason, this compliment gets him embarrassed, and he scratches the back of his neck. He nods and mutters a small ‘Thank you’, before getting back into the changing room.
After he undresses, his hand peeks out from behind the curtain, with all the clothes he tried on in a basket.
His head peeks out too and he sheepishly tries to talk to you. “Go pay for the items, then hand them to me here so I can change immediately.”
You smile at his thoughtfulness, realising he’s willing to sit there in the cold changing room just so you don’t have to deal with people asking for photos again.
You pay for the clothes, which ends up costing $65, and head back to the changing room to give Clark the black slacks and white dress shirt he had shown you along with some cheap-but-nice shoes they were selling.
He comes out of the room, and gives you a little spin.
“Feel a bit more like yourself?” You ask, unable to stop a smile from growing on your face.
Clark nods boyishly, interlocking your arms and getting ready to exit the department store.
As you get ready to meet Elora at the entrance, you hear a cashier from behind you gasp as he sees Clark’s face. You groan.
“That’s it.” You grab some aviator glasses off a rack and quickly head back to the shocked cashier to pay for it.
The cashier can’t even finish his “Have a great day-” before you’re speed walking back to Clark.
“Put these on, please.” You hand them to Clark, stopping yourself from practically shoving them onto his face. He carefully puts them on and blinks a few times.
“This feels familiar.” He giggles and you two finally exit the store with Elora.
Elora had to leave for a date halfway through the day, but not until you reassured her you could take care of a grown man-doll.
As much as you wanted Clark to keep hidden as much as he can, he couldn’t help but help everyone in sight. Picking up kids when they fell down, asking for money to buy someone an ice cream after they had dropped theirs, he even greets the people that pass him by and tells them they look great.
“What about me?” You tease, in response to him telling a woman her hair looked fantastic.
He loses eye contact with you and his face turns comically red. “Well, I mean- I always think you look good.’
You couldn’t help but wonder if the ‘magic’ glitter altered how Clark felt about you. You guide Clark into an Italian restaurant you and Elora frequented. Not too fancy or expensive, but still had a nice atmosphere.
You and Clark sit down at a candle-lit table opposite each other, to which he smiles at you.
“Is this a dinner date?” He asks politely. “Cause, I don’t really eat…”
You raise your eyebrows at him, before realising you didn’t explain to him you were just trying to take advantage of being at a mall for once.
“Oh! Well, I… it’s just supposed to be dinner for me.” You explain quickly. Why are you acting so nervous suddenly? You hand him a menu but you can’t help but notice he looks slightly disappointed.
“Why? Did you want it to be a date?” You ask carefully. His eyes move up from the menu to look at you. “It’s just… you haven’t really been acting the same since I turned human.”
When he refers to himself as human, it does feel like a bit of a shock. Well, he has preferences, he can talk, he has empathy it seems, but he’s not really made of flesh and bone? In your head he’s still a doll that turned big.
You shake those thoughts from your head and focus on the rest of what he said.
“What do you mean by acting differently?”
He blushes again, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, you were really… affectionate, the night you brought me home, but when I came to life you just… I-I just feel like it would make you more comfortable if I wasn’t here.”
You feel a pang in your heart. You didn’t realise your stress and confusion had been affecting him as well. It’s not like he asked to come to life, but he is, and he can’t help the emotions he’s feeling. You don’t want him to feel like you don’t want him there, because if you don’t want him, then who will? He’s got no one else but you right now.
And after the pang you suddenly feel a wave of embarrassment, realising the ‘affection’ he was talking about was you kissing a children’s toy. You shrink in your seat.
“Oh, Clark…” You hold both of his hands, causing him to drop the menu in shock. “Look, I may not have expected you here, but I don’t want you to feel like you’re not wanted. It’s just taking me some time to get used to having another person around, especially since that person is… you, and you’re different.”
He gives a sad smile at the word ‘different’, but he nods understandingly.
“What are we then? I feel this… natural urge to care for you and love you, but if you don’t want it, I won’t force anything.” He looks into your eyes, seeking some kind of answer.
You purse your lips, not knowing what to say. “That’s a complicated question, Clark… but I’m glad you’re asking it.”
“I thought I wanted a boyfriend, but I don’t know how I feel about literally creating one. I don’t even know if that’s even, like, ethical.” You give an awkward laugh. “I always said I wanted to date Superman, but I only said that because it wasn’t a real possibility for me at the time. I think it would be best for us both if we didn’t think about romance just yet, and just figured out how to make life comfortable for you and I right now.”
Clark takes in all your words, like he’s trying to fully understand your thought process, and he lets go of one of your hands to run it through his hair. “That makes perfect sense to me, I’ll refrain from acting like we’re a couple, I’ll get a job so I can afford my own things, and I’ll wait for you to figure out how you feel about me. But, I just want you to be aware that I do have feelings for you.”
You blush at that last sentence, covering your face with your free hand sheepishly. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”
Clark tilts his head and lifts your chin up. “That’s a shame.”
You open the door and Clark walks back into your apartment.
You open the pull out couch and place your unused blankets on it as Clark takes a shower. You laugh to yourself at the thought that he might turn back into a tiny figurine.
You change into your sleeping clothes, sitting on the couch with your legs resting on the extended area. You rest your head on the back rest and slowly fall asleep with your phone open on a voice note to Elora.
“Elora, he says he has feelings for me…” You mutter into the speaker. “Gee, that says a lot about me, huh? The first guy who ever liked me is a toy. I guess guys who want to save me really aren’t real...”
Your words turn to snores as you drift away to dreamland.
The bathroom door creaks open as Clark uses a spare towel to wipe his hair, droplets of shower water falling onto his new pajamas.
He spots you on the couch and smiles, imagining you two falling asleep side-by-side. But he knows you’d only freak out when you eventually woke up, so he gently carries you onto your bed by the windowsill, patting your head.
He tucks himself on the couch, embracing the smell of your apartment, and he dreams of Metropolis.
“Clark, you seriously don’t have to do all the cooking.” You almost feel guilty stuffing your face with the fresh and warm pancakes Clark’s made for you.
He shakes his head like you’re being ridiculous. “Nonsense, you’re doing more than you need to to take care of me, this is the least I can do to pay you back.”
Clark sits down in front of you but you notice his gaze moves past you and stays on the window by your bed. You swallow a mouthful of toasted bread before you say “Clark, you can sit on my bed if you want.”
“Oh no, it’s…” He instinctually declines your politeness before looking back at the bright sky. “Can I open the window?”
You nod once again, and he gets up with his breakfast plate, placing a hand on your shoulder as he walks past you.
You get up as well and you two find your spots on your windowsill mattress. He looks beautiful with the morning sun shining on his face, you don’t even feel guilty staring, because anyone would.
The wind blows on his face, and his eyes shut, taking it all in. “Is there a rooftop on this building?” He asks.
You nod. “Can we go? Later?” He asks.
“Yeah, sure. Why do you ask?”
Clark presses his hand on the edge of the window sill, a small sliver of sunshine hitting his fingers.
“I miss the yellow sun.”
“So, can you like… fly?” You ask, squinting your eyes at Clark. You haven’t been up here in so long.
Clark puts his fist up in flying position and jumps, only for his feet to quickly fall back onto the ground.
He shakes his head, cracking his knuckles. “I feel… I don’t feel my powers like I think I should. I don’t feel… extraordinary like I imagine I should.”
“You broke my bat, though. You can’t fly but you still have super strength?” You point out.
He chuckles and shrugs. “Might be the life-sized toy effect, I’m not exactly sure what you’d find if you cut me open right now, but I doubt it’d be organs.”
You wince at the graphic description but accept his explanation. He pats his chest and encourages you to throw a hit. You laugh and throw a lazy punch.
“C’mon you can do better, you can’t hurt me.” He encourages, his hands doing a ‘come on’ gesture.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now.” You warn with a grin, you hit him as hard as you can.
He didn’t move, but his eyebrows raised. “Oh, wait…”
“What happened?” Your smile slowly fades as you retract your hand. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s just… I felt it.”
“What?”
“It didn’t hurt, but I actually felt an impact, not just a touch, the feeling of contact, like when your bat hit me.” “Wow, way to call my swinging skills lame…” You tease, bumping his shoulder with your own.
“See! There, I felt it again!” He points at you eagerly. “I feel you.”
Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire as you turn away, sitting on the edge of the building, trying to soak in the sun. “Does that mean something is changing?”
Clark sits down next to you, breathing in the warmth of the sun.
“I love this. I wanna stay here forever.” He breathily admits.
He rests his hand on your waist, to make sure you don’t accidentally fall over.
You know he’s just a toy but he really looks like he’s warming up in the sun, like some deep part of him is being healed. You’d go up here with him anytime he asked.
“I insist you sit down.” You say sternly.
“I insist you relax.” Clark jokes and lifts you up without any effort.
You two are fighting over who gets to cook dinner tonight, Clark, being the angel that he is, insists that he do it.
You cross your arms and huff as Clark gets his way, he smirks and ruffles your hair, and you swear, he nearly kisses your cheek, but instead he pulls away and goes to make ‘breakfast for dinner’.
Knock, knock, knock
You and Clark’s heads immediately snap towards the door. You weren’t expecting any company, so you slowly got up and approached the door.
“Baby! How have you been?” Your mom hugged you as soon as you unlocked the door.
“Ah, how is my darling?” Your dad joins in, hugging you as soon as your mom lets go.
“Oh, uhm, I’m good, dad-” You try to make small talk but you hear your mom shriek from behind you.
You instantly turn around and see Clark waving at her slowly, with the silliest smile on as your mom’s hands are clasped on her face.
“Who is this?” Your mother demands. “You have a boyfriend?”
“Mama, it’s not what it looks like-” You try to settle the situation down, but your parents are immediately all over him.
Your father smacks him on the back, it’s supposed to be friendly, but even indestructible Clark has a reaction to it. “You’re a big guy, huh? How did you and my child meet?”
Clark straightens up his glasses. “Hello, sir! Uh, we met at the toy store-”
“Like a few months ago! He’s just sleeping over for the night.” You quickly interrupt, your brain running wild, trying to come up with a fake story to tell your parents.
“Sleeping over with your boyfriend…” Your mom says, scandalised. “Well, I suppose you’re grown up now…”
Clark blushes at the word boyfriend, going back to keep cooking dinner.
You guide your parents to the dining table so they can continue to interview you.
“What’s his work?” Your dad asks.
“He’s a journalist.” You respond quickly, a bead of sweat falling down. “But writes under a pseudonym and he’s currently looking for another job.”
“How long have you two been together?” Your mother queries.
“Maybe six months now, but we’ve known each other for years.”
“Why haven’t we heard about him?” They ask at the same time.
You nearly start shaking, but Clark turns around and gives you a nod of reassurance. You take a deep breath. “I’ve been posting about him on Instagram, mama. Don’t you follow me?”
Your mother and father take a sigh and shake their heads in disbelief. “Darling, you know we use facebook more.” Your father says.
“Oh, sorry, pa! I’ve just posted so much about him, I would’ve thought you’d heard about him by now.” You give a fake laugh, but you know your parents can’t tell the difference.
“Ah, I’m sorry I forgot to ask.” Your mother places a hand on yours. “What’s his name?”
You stutter as you stare at her, trying to come up with a fake name.
“Clark.” He says before you can. “Clark Kent.”
There's silence in the room.
Before your dad bellows out a laugh.
“Clark Kent? Your parents named you after Superman?” He stands up to give Clark another pat on the back. Clark gives a faux-guilty nod and an abashed smile. You know your dad doesn’t recognise faces, so you’re not surprised he doesn’t realise Clark’s striking resemblance to the super hero.
“It’s quite silly, I know, but I think it fits me.” Clark smiles, he’s suddenly carrying four bowls of mac n’ cheese. You get up from your seat to help him set the bowls and spoons down, to which he gives you a small ‘Thanks, honey’ and kisses your cheek.
You blush as you fall back into your seat and let Clark charm your parents.
“Now, you have to call us once a month and update us. I don’t want you getting engaged without telling us first.” Your mom scolds as you essentially push her and your father into their car.
“Yes, yes, mama, I love you!” Is the last thing your parents hear before the car doors shut and they drive away.
Clark places a hand on your shoulder, but you get the feeling he wishes he could do more, so you turn around and envelope him in a hug, right there, at night, in the parking lot of your apartment building.
“How are you?” You two say at the same time. Too tired for a big reaction, you two just let out an exhale and head back up the elevator.
“How are you?” You ask again, staring at him through the elevator mirror.
His eyes smile back. “I like your parents.”
“You don’t have to lie.” You nudge him, as the elevator dings and opens on your floor.
He follows you and places a hand on your shoulder to let you know he’s being serious. “No, no, I really like them. They care about you a lot.”
You roll your eyes, opening the apartment door. “They’re tired of me. I know they wish I was doing better at this point in life. They’re mad when I’m not married, they’re mad when I have a boyfriend. I can’t win with them. I’m never up to their standards of what a normal person my age should be doing.”
Clark makes a sad expression as he takes off his shoes. “I think they just worried for you, and they can’t help but be worried no matter what’s happening because they want the best for you.”
You groan, huffing as you sit on your couch like a kid. “Ugh, Clark, why do you have to be so perfect? I wish you’d just get irrationally mad with me sometimes.”
Clark carefully sits down with you, with one arm around your shoulder, and the other rubbing your arm comfortingly. “I just want you to see the world through someone else’s eyes.” He says as he rests his head on your shoulder. It’s a nice feeling, that you’re giving the nicest person, or, well, toy, on Earth some comfort.
“Do you feel bad that I have to keep you a secret?” You ask genuinely concerned.
He gives a sad smile. Clark Kent gives you a sad smile. “I’m used to keeping secrets.”
“Like a real-life Superman, this 6’3 man saves a kitten from a tree!” The semi-viral news clip on your Twitter feed replays for the 30th time. 20,000 people are obsessed with the kind and hot man who looks a lot like Superman.
You admit, you’ve watched it multiple times just to see that clip of Clark smiling with the cat in his arms. He just… he looks really good. But there’s this jealous part of you that doesn’t want this many people to be perceiving him. It’s a bit… a lot selfish, but you wish he was all yours.
It’s been around two weeks now, you and Clark have been growing closer, and Clark’s been loving the real world. Seriously, you don’t understand how he can just find something to love about every person. It makes you hate yourself a little bit, that you can’t be like him. Maybe this is why Lex Luthor is the way he is. But you try. Whenever you’re off to work, you try to spare change for the homeless, or compliment the person whose shoes you were staring at. It makes you feel a little better to see someone smile because of you. You tell Clark all about this at the end of the day, and he always smiles and tells you he’s proud of you.
Clark found a part-time office job that requires no experience. You don’t exactly understand what it is, but you support him nonetheless. The more Clark leaves the house, the more you miss him, and you’ve been missing him a lot recently. You two even slept on the couch together after you had a nightmare, and you may have caught some-
No, that’s ridiculous. He’s a toy at the end of the day. He’s a toy that magically came to life with magical grow-a-boyfriend glitter, can he even consent? You can’t seriously be so desperate that you go for a fucking plastic doll based on a fictional character.
Be a goddamn normal person for once.
You hear a muffled but enthusiastic “I’m home!” through the door, and shut your phone off immediately, running to meet him.
“Hi, Clark.” You greet.
Clark gives you a quick hug before taking off his shoes and entering the apartment.
“Do anything fun today?” You ask, wondering if he’d brag about the kitten he saved.
Of course he doesn’t. “I got another job today! It doesn’t pay too much, but the man running the shelter really needs a lot of help, so I volunteered and I also found a couple more people who are willing to help out. We’re doing it for free until we get more donations.” He rambles on, unpacking his bag (your highschool messenger bag) on the dinner table, and you just sit in disbelief of how a single living creature could be so kind.
As much as you want to bask in his incredibleness all day, the cynical part of your brain kicks in. “I saw you, uh, saved a cat today on the news.”
He turns around with a smile. “His name was Skimbleshanks, yeah. What about it?”
You rub at your elbows, not even understanding why you’re getting upset. Clark notices immediately and drops what he’s doing to grab ahold of your shoulders.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He asks. God, why do his eyes shine? Why is his skin so textured? Why does he breathe in and out like his body is trying to convince you he’s a real human being? It just hurts.
“I… I guess I’m just worried about people questioning you? Or maybe I’m worried about you running out of clothes for the office- Shit I… Fuck, Clark, I’m worried about everything and nothing, don’t mind me.” You hit your temple with the heel of your hand, like you’re physically trying to shake the thoughts out of your head.
Clark tuts, you know he wants to correct your language but he holds back as he pulls your wrist away from your head. “Hey, let’s talk about this. Let’s figure out what’s going on in your head.”
You look at him for a second and, fuck, your heart tugs, like it’s begging to get closer to him. You pull away, heading to your bedroom.
“Don’t you worry that if you keep getting yourself into dangerous situations that people will start investigating things about you?”
“Then I’ll dawn the Superman persona and I’ll do it in disguise.”
“That won’t work, life isn’t like cartoons, Clark, you don’t have hypno glasses or a population that isn’t crazy enough to dox you.”
“I doubt anyone would want to target you or I for random acts of kindness.”
“That’s not the problem, Clark.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“I don’t know!” You finally assert, raising your voice in a way you never did in front of Clark. Or anyone for that matter.
Clark doesn’t flinch, but his face does fall. His fist clenches, not out of anger, but frustration.
“Do you need some space?” He asks, so gentle it hurts.
You look down at your feet, so ashamed of the fact you’re acting like an actual toddler right now. So confused by their feelings that they throw a tantrum and hurt the one person who’s trying to care for them. Clark takes your lack of an answer as a yes and puts on his shoes to exit the apartment.
“I’m not mad at you.” You whisper.
You’re lucky he heard it. “I know.” He turns the doorknob. “I’m not mad at you either.” Click.
Jesus fucking christ, what did you just do?
Why are you even acting this way, he’s just a fucking toy! You’ve never felt this way about a stupid plastic object before.
You do what you always do when you have a problem, and you call Elora.
The phone rings for barely a second before her face shows up on your phone screen.
“Oh my gosh, angel!!! You will not guess what happened. I got another one of those grow-a-boyfriend packets and one of those Ryan Gosling Ken dolls, and now I have my very own RYAN GOSLI-” her rant freezes when she finally looks at your face.
“Oh… honey, why did you call?” She wonders. “Where’s Clarkie?”
Your nose scrunches at the nickname. “Don’t call him that…”
“Wha- oh sweetie…” Elora smiles. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”
You roll your eyes. “He’s a goddamn toy, Elora, can you actually be serious for once?”
Elora frowns at you, but she’s known you long enough to know you’re just being mean cause you’re upset.
“Honey, why did you call me?”
“I…” You pout. “Fuck, I actually like him. Am I a freak for that?”
Elora smiles. “No, honey! Why would you even say that?”
You scratch your head. “He’s not human.”
“How is he not human? What do you think a human is?”
“A living breathing creature with four limbs-”
“Bap, bap, bap! Watch it, not all humans have four limbs.”
“Oh… well a living breathing creature that speaks-”
“Not all humans speak.”
“That cries-”
“I’ve never cried.”
“Fine! A living breathing creature that can handle and practice the concept of empathy?”
She tilts her head with a smirk at that answer. “Clark does all that and more.”
“Fine, fine. But- I just… he’s different.”
“Everyone’s different, idiot! Some humans speak different languages, and some don’t speak at all. Some people look a little or a lot different. Some people were born from wombs, and others from test tubes. Clark was born from the mind of two men, and came alive in your bathtub.” She says, like it’s the most normal thing.
“Look, what matters is that Clark has a working brain and a moral compass that teaches him what’s right and wrong. He’s an adult, who breathes, who lives, who helps. It’s not wrong to love him just because he’s different.”
You pout, taking in Elora’s words. “Why do I feel so guilty about it then?”
Elora shrugs. “That’s for you to figure out, lovie. Anyways, I have to go, Ken is taking me out to the beach!”
You blow a kiss to Elora and she hangs up.
You look at the sunset, wondering about Clark’s whereabouts.
Then you realise you know where he is.
You close the door to the rooftop as quietly as possible, but of course, he hears you.
He sits on the tall edge of the building and pats the seat next to him, inviting you to join him.
You instead stay standing and place your arms where he patted.
“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” He asks, looking directly at you.
You nod, resting your head on your folded arms. “I know why I was mad now.”
“And what was it?” He cocks an eyebrow, but his tone is genuine.
“Myself. I was mad at myself for not being normal and I was projecting it onto you.”
Clark doesn’t try to reassure you that you’re normal, or explain that everyone is a bit abnormal, it’s like he knows you don’t need to be babied, so he just nods.
“I like you, Clark. And I guess I was telling myself you weren’t perfect enough for me, but the truth is you’re the only perfect person I know.” You admit, and it’s like poison falling off your tongue. It’s painful but necessary.
Clark smiles at you, and turns away from the sunset so his body faces you.
“I’m not perfect by any means, but I do want to be with you.”
“You make me a better person, Clark. I’ve never known I had the power to take care of anyone, I’ve never had someone to show me the other side of the story, or encourage me to be kinder. You do all that for me. I was so scared of feeling, but I realise now what I was feeling was for you.”
Clark takes a hold of both of your hands, and suddenly you notice it. They’re scraped, a tiny bit of blood seeps out.
“Clark, you’re bleeding!” You exclaim. Wait.
What?
“You’re… bleeding?” You question, you look up at him to see that stupid smile you love so much.
He laughs instead of nodding, wiping the blood away. “It just happened today, I guess I’m changing. Is it okay if I’m not the indestructible Superman you love?”
You shake your head. “You’re the only Superman I love.”
Clark bends down, cups the side of your face and leans in.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, with a genuinely nervous look on his face.
You smile and pull him in by the blue collar he keeps hidden under his work clothes.
And for once, you don’t need to feel normal, because you feel human.
A few months later you’d probably ask Clark what it means to be human.
He says it’s loving you. A/N: dedicated to @mykaneptune, thank you for birthing Elora
