#buglovesclark

"so, when are you going to tell your parents about us?"

clark prods, halfway through tugging his shirt off. he has you exactly where he wants you, straddling his lap, your hands on his chiseled abdomen.

"what?" you ask, tilting your head to the side with a confused smile. he's asking about that now? he tosses his t-shirt across the room before letting his hands find their home on your waist, just under the shirt you're wearing.

"well, we've been seeing each other for a while now, it's just on my mind," he shrugs. there's light pink dusted across his cheeks, and if you weren't too busy noticing how his eyes kept dropping to your lips, that would've made you smile. clark's question is something you'd been asking yourself for weeks now—and him actually verbalizing it only adds to the guilt. has he been waiting on you to tell your parents all this time?

"i'm not, like, hiding it, if that's what you think." his fingers drag along your skin, careful not to catch the spot where you're ticklish. and then they're trailing a bit higher, hiking your shirt up as you go.

"that's not what i think," clark says, but it lacks the conviction he means for it to. you've never known clark to be a good liar. "but," he starts gently, letting his hands drop back down to your waist. "your parents haven't gotten at least a little suspicious? i mean, they're seeing a lot of me, lately." he can't even meet your eyes while he says that. he knows you well, and he knows you're not the happiest about his point, however right he may be.

"they haven't asked about you. not since the first time you came over."

"and what did you say then?"

"i said that you were a guy in my english class, and that we were going to work on our project." it's clark's turn to tilt his head, now. "which is not incorrect!" you're quick to add.

"we did a lot more than work on our project, sweetheart," he smirks, meeting your gaze with a glint in his eyes.

"they don't need to know that!" you exclaim, and even with the humorous tone behind it, you can tell it doesn't land well with clark. he swallows, looking to the side. "i'll tell them soon, okay?"

that seems to ease him for the moment. soon is vague, he thinks, but he trusts you. and if there's one thing clark knows about you, it's that you're a people pleaser. "okay."

"yeah? we're okay?"

"what color is this supposed to be again?"

is what draws you out of your daydream, clark’s voice meeting your ears with a mix of genuine confusion and ‘i told you so’. you stand, rushing towards the oven, looking in the barely open door to see a muddy brown cake—something far different than the pink you were aiming for. 

“pink,” you conceded. it was only another second before you begrudgingly took the pan out, nearly forgoing the oven mitts entirely.

“didn’t i say—“

“don’t start," you cut him off, a silent plea hidden behind your demand. staring at the dessert, you can't help but sigh. you should've listened to clark.

“come on, lovey. we can just make the icing pink," he suggests, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. instinctually, you lean into him.

“no, i know, it’s just… i had a vision.”

“it’s just a cake.”

“yeah, well, i’m trying to get in the valentine’s day spirit. it’s not exactly my favorite holiday.” maybe that's why the cake didn't turn out—it just wasn't in the cards for you.

“really? it seems right up your alley.”

“not when you never get to have a good one.”

“oh, so you’ll like it again after this year, then?” you can hear the smile on his face as he says that, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“very smooth, kent.”

“i’m serious.” clark lets his hands find your hips, spinning you around gently. “hey. i’d hate for you to have disdain towards something you should love.” 

"disdain? that's a good word. spending a lot of time with lex?"

"you're changing the subject."

"i just don't think it's a big deal."

"you're lying. i can see it in your eyes," clark points out before turning and grabbing pink food dye out of his kitchen cabinet. he glances back at you, smiling to himself as he sees you seated on the counter, your legs hanging. "you've never had a valentine's day with me, just saying." even just his words are enough to make your stomach flutter. maybe he's right—as he seems to be all the time. "and yes. i have been spending time with lex."