Obsessive - Clark Kent x fem!reader
Summary: Clark Kent believed he would never have to worry about heart attacks. But becoming friends with Yn made him doubt that.
Warnings: Fluff, attempt at humor (tell me if I managed to get at least a smile from you, even if it's out of pity), Yn having a deadly strawberry allergy, mentions of pet deaths (RIP Bob Bubbles, the fish). That's all?
The Daily Planet was almost like a living organism.
It breathed through the incessant clatter of keyboards, the buzzing and beeping of printers refusing to do their jobs; its blood was the journalists running to and fro, like red blood cells carrying oxygen throughout the body. Its heart rate was dictated by the rhythm of the day itself: calm if the news wasn't good, accelerated and full of adrenaline if the news was too good.
"Clark Joseph Kent!" and of course, what was a living organism without a heart attack once in a while?
Her voice cut through the center of the Daily Planet like a knife cutting through morning bread; reporters stopped in their tracks, printers displayed error 303 on their small screens; keyboards fell silent, and only the sound of sugar falling into Lois's coffee could be heard.
The woman's sneakers thumped against the marble floor with nothing but determination. Her pants and shirt were the same as yesterday, but not for the reason you're thinking. Her hair still looked like it had concrete debris on it, and she certainly shouldn't have left the hospital so early.
She carried a newspaper that had come out that morning, the front page showing the day's headline: "Superman prevents burning building from collapsing downtown!" written by Clark Kent.
"Uhh, full name… Someone's in trouble," Jimmy joked with his friend, who took steps back as Yn approached.
It was comical that a man of that size—and powers—was sneaking away from her finger on his chest.
"You stole my story!" she accused, and silence returned to the room. Everyone had their eyes on the two of them. Clark tried to laugh to ease the tension, but it wasn't a good idea. "You think that's funny?"
"No! No! Of course not! " he said, raising his hands as if surrendering. The silence was cutting. Only the sound of Lois's sips of coffee echoed throughout the room. "Shouldn't you even be here? Shouldn't you be in the hospital? Or at home? Resting?"
"How can I rest if my best friend stole my story?!" she accused.
Technically, she wasn't wrong.
Yn did indeed have the story. She was in the story. Literally.
When she saw the smoke rising into the sky at the end of the day, her reporter instincts told her to run there and find out for herself what was happening.
The fire was already visible three blocks away.
The building was one of those modern skyscrapers in the financial district, glass and steel gleaming in the afternoon sun, or at least it had been before the fire. Now, the windows on the upper floors were shattered, black smoke spewing from the openings like blood from an open wound. The sirens of the firemen mingled with the screams of passersby and the terrifying sound of glass cracking in the heat.
Yn already had her cell phone in hand, recording. Her reporter's voice took over, calm and firm despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
"We're on Ana Bell Street, where a large fire is raging on the upper floors of the Atlante building. There's no information yet on victims, but rescue teams are already on site trying to control the flames. You can see…"
She stopped.
Because something in the sky had changed.
A red and blue dot cut through the clouds of smoke like an arrow shot from an invisible bow.
Superman.
He was there before the firefighters could connect the hoses, before the police finished isolating the perimeter, before Yn could finish her sentence.
"It's Superman…" she said, and even after so many times, there was still admiration in her voice. "Superman just arrived on the scene."
He flew directly to the top of the building, where the flames were most intense. Yn saw him hover in the air for a second, assessing the situation with that superhuman calm that characterized him. And then he began to blow.
It wasn't exactly "blowing," technically. It was more like he exhaled a controlled burst of icy air from his Kryptonian lungs, scientists speculated, capable of compressing and cooling air to cryogenic temperatures. The flames on the building's facade diminished, turning into thick smoke.
But inside the building, the fire still burned.
Superman flew inside through one of the shattered windows, disappearing into the darkness. Yn lost sight of him for a moment, and that's when her attention turned to the security line.
The police had arrived. Yellow tape cordoned off a two-block area around the building. Firefighters rushed to and fro, some carrying hoses, others carrying stretchers. A police officer, a large man with a thick mustache and an expression that suggested he'd seen too much, was pushing back the onlookers.
"Everyone back!" he shouted. "Mandatory isolation! Keep your distance!"
Yn approached the tape, still recording with her cell phone.
"Miss, didn't you hear? Back!" the policeman pointed at her.
"I'm a reporter for the Daily Planet," Yn replied, showing her credentials. "I need access to the area."
"And I need a raise, but I'm not going to get either. Back!"
Yn frowned. It wasn't the first time she'd been stopped. It wouldn't be the last. But she hadn't come this far to stand outside the yellow tape as a mere spectator.
She stepped back, feigning obedience. The policeman turned his attention to other onlookers, and Yn saw her opportunity.
There was a point on the isolation tape where two fire trucks were parked, creating a small gap in the barrier.
She ducked, slid under the tape, and ran.
"Hey! HEY!" the policeman yelled after her, but Yn was already plunging into the crowd of firefighters and paramedics. She squeezed through the people, ignoring the voices yelling for her to stop, and reached the building's entrance.
The heat was suffocating. The smoke made her eyes burn. But Yn didn't stop. She entered the building's lobby, where the alarms were still blaring and the emergency lights flashed red.
And then she saw him.
Superman was a few meters away, helping a group of people down an emergency staircase. His face was smeared with soot, his uniform slightly charred at the edges, but he seemed immune to the heat, the smoke, the chaos around him.
"SUPERMAN!" Yn shouted, running towards him. "SUPERMAN, ONE WORD! I'M A REPORTER FOR THE DAILY PLANET!"
He turned around, and for a brief instant, so brief that Yn almost missed him, his eyes widened. It wasn't the look of a hero seeing a reporter. It was the look of someone who recognized that voice. Someone who cared about her.
"You shouldn't be here Ma'am," he said, and there was something in that tone that Yn couldn't identify at the time. Something that sounded almost like… Desperation.
"Just five minutes!" she pleaded, approaching him. "Give me five minutes, an exclusive interview, and I'll get out of here." She coughed as smoke filled her lungs. The group that had previously accompanied Superman left through the lobby doors, probably being attended to by paramedics.
"The building is going to collapse…" he said, approaching her and trying to guide her to the exit. It wasn't their first encounter like this, and Superman feared it wouldn't be the last.
"Then you'd better give me the interview quickly."
Superman hesitated. For a split second, Yn could swear she saw conflict in his eyes, as if he were fighting something, trying to make an impossible decision.
And then, from the top of the building, came a noise. A metallic creak, followed by the sound of cracking concrete.
"Watch out!" he shouted, pulling her to his chest and saving her from a piece of concrete that fell from the ceiling. "That's enough. I'm getting you out of here." He didn't give Yn time to respond or say anything, he just took off.
She clung to him instinctively, feeling the alien's arms do the same.
Superman didn't just leave her outside. From the sound of the wind in her ears, and the length of time they were flying, it seemed like he was taking her to the other side of the world.
In fact, he left her inside Metropolis General Hospital.
"She was in the burning building, she inhaled smoke… Take care of her, please!" he said, taking steps back, not flying before greeting the nurses and doctors.
"What? No! Take me back! " she said, stamping her foot and following him.
Superman knew that if he didn't leave her a significant distance from the fire, Yn would go back there and try to get her interview… So he left her in the safest and furthest place he could.
"I hope I don't see you again, Ma'am" he said, hesitating a little on the last word, as if that wasn't what he was going to say.
"SUPERMAN! " yn shouted, but he was already in the clouds, breaking the sound barrier and returning to the building.
"Sit here, dear, let's check your lungs." she had no choice but to sit in the nurse's wheelchair.
And now, less than twenty-four hours later, Yn was standing in front of Clark Kent, holding the newspaper with the story that should have been hers.
"You had no right, Clark!"
"That's enough, Yn!" Perry's voice echoed in the office like a gunshot.
"Perry"
"I gave the story to Kent because you were hospitalized" he said, drawing closer with each word. "It's not the first time, and I feel it won't be the last, that you'll put yourself at risk to get a miraculous exclusive."
"It's not miraculous, Clark gets it every week."
"I'm not finished. " he interrupted her. "You need to stop this obsession. Otherwise, I'll make you stop. Understood?"
"Yes, sir" she said, huffing. Deep down she knew Perry was right.
"Go home, you have concrete in your hair."
"Yes, sir."
"Stop calling me sir" he turned his back to go back to his office.
"Yes, sir… Yes, Perry."
With a long breath, Yn turned to Clark, who wore an apologetic smile.
"I can take you home if you want," he offered.
"No… You'll be wasting your time," she replied as if she hadn't been yelling at him two seconds ago.
"The doctors released you, right?" he asked with curiosity and concern at the same time.
"Yeah…"
"You ran away?" he said, more worried. He looked at her strangely for a few seconds, as if he were analyzing her lungs, as if he were capable of that.
"They said I could go home… When I could get my heart to stop beating above a hundred."
"Yn…"
"Clark, I'm hyperactive. You know that! My heart is like a rabbit's! It always has been!" He rolled his eyes, partly because it was true. Since he met her, he knew that her heart beat so loud and fast that sometimes, when it was quiet enough, you could hear it… Without having super hearing.
"You need to see a cardiologist…" he murmured, accompanying her to the elevator.
"Yeah… It's on the list." she replied, pressing the button and waiting for it to arrive. "Even though you did, in fact, steal my story… It was a great piece… It deserved the front page."
"Thank you" he replied, placing his hand on the woman's back and guiding her into the elevator. "You know Perry's right, don't you? You need to stop chasing Superman," for Rao's sake, stop… You've given me enough heart attacks… And I'm Kryptonian. " just this week it was the kaiju"
"I was in the same square as him!"
"The robbery at the coffee shop"
"It was two blocks from my house, I go there all the time! Pure coincidence."
"The building on fire…"
"That was my fault"- Clark laughed as if he didn't believe his friend's words. She laughed along with him. "I know it's crazy… But I need at least one interview. For my career… And for my obsession. One thing is connected to the other… I'm already working on it in therapy, don't worry. "
"I always worry about you."" The elevator seemed to get a little heavier with those words. "Nothing is worth it if you get hurt, not even an interview with Superman or Wonder Woman." Under the bright lights of the elevator, Clark could clearly see all the concrete dust accumulated in her hair. Her cheeks were a little flushed, but that could also be from the dirt. Her clothes had small burns that he hadn't noticed before. Clark had nightmares that night, dreaming that he couldn't save her in time.
It was terrible.
"Says the guy who has Superman as his best friend!" she retorted, giving him a light punch on the shoulder. She disguised how much her fingers hurt from the impact. Working on the farm his whole life had given him muscles of iron, apparently.
Clark smiled, rolling his eyes at his friend's comment.
"You could introduce me to him…" and risk you finding out everything? ABSOLUTELY NOT. You're already putting yourself in danger without even knowing who I am… Imagine if-"Clark? Hello? Anyone home?" she waved her hand in front of her eyes, protected by those adorable square glasses he wore.
"Sorry… But he's a reserved guy."
"And sexist."
"WHAT? NO! I-He's not… I'm sure that… No… He's not sexist, I'm sure." Clark replied, his voice rising slightly.
"Just think about it, it makes sense… He gives you all the interviews you want… And I, a woman, get nothing! Sexist." she said as if it were simple math. 2+2=4. Superman = Sexist.
"Or, OR! He's a reserved guy and… And he doesn't want to put you at risk!"
"Look at me, I have concrete in my hair. I put myself at risk alone." she replied, and the elevator opened with a classic DING.
"He's not a sexist, I guarantee it."
"I'm not blaming him, Clark… Just a little. But think about it, if our society is already sexist from birth, imagine the Kryptonians?" Clark suddenly had no arguments. "Or… Someone here has a crush…" now he stopped walking completely.
Clark felt his heart race over a thousand miles an hour. His blood drained everywhere but his face, which turned as pale as a sheet. His glasses slid down his nose, and his curly hair fell a little further onto his forehead.
"W-who?"
"Superman, duh!" she replied, using the tip of her finger to adjust her friend's glasses and hair. "Maybe I'm not his type… I think he prefers: tall guys, with adorable glasses, wavy dark hair, nerdy, cute, and… with the strength of someone who herded cows and milked bulls… I don't know how farms work."
"You think I'm cute?"
"Is that all you heard?" she laughed, finishing adjusting his crooked tie. "My point is, I think Superman likes you."
"He's not my type," he murmured, looking at his best friend with a slight blush on his cheeks. "How about…" he coughed, disguising it and raising his head towards the building's coffee stand. "How about, as an apology, I buy you a donut to take home?"
"That would be nice… I think the sugar will calm my heart," she joked. "Oh, just remember…"
"No strawberries, I know… I don't intend to kill my best friend" he said, remembering well her deadly allergy.
With the chocolate donut with rainbow sprinkles in hand, and Clark Kent practically kicking her out of the building, she went home.
And for a few days Clark thought he would have peace.
For a few days, Superman stopped running into the reporter at all the disasters he avoided.
It was a relief. Until Yn showed up at work happier than usual.
"I figured it out." she said, leaning on Clark's desk with two fresh coffees from the cafeteria downstairs, and two chocolate donuts.
"Figured out what"- he asked, turning to his friend, taking the coffee she was giving him as usual.
"A way to circumvent Perry's order."
"What order?"
"The one about "yn is forbidden from mentioning the name of you-know-who in the workplace."
Ah… The order I basically begged Jerry to give after she escaped from the hospital.
"That order" he said, watching her pull up her chair to sit next to him. Close enough for him to smell her perfume… The soap from her bath… The shampoo and conditioner… It was torture.
"Exactly. I thought… If I find out who… You-know-who it is, Perry will have to let me write about it." Oh no. No. No. No. No. "Why the long face? It's good news!"
"I don't know if it's a good idea…" he said, swallowing hard, his racing heart and the panic of his secret being discovered by his stubborn and insistent best friend… And the love of his life, but that's another story.
"It's an excellent idea! And you're going to help me with it."
"Me?! W-Why me? "
"Clark Kent… I thought you were smarter," she said, playfully touching his forehead. "You're my best friend, it's your obligation to help me," she replied, and he didn't ask her to elaborate further.
If I help her, I can prevent her from finding out who I am and… And we'll spend more time together. Not bad.
"Okay. " She threw herself into a hug that made Clark hold his breath.
"Thank you, Clark" she said, leaving a kiss on his cheek. "Let's have dinner and then I'll show you what I've gathered."
"Dinner?"
"Yes, at my house. Is that okay with you?" She sat down again, taking her coffee and taking a generous sip.
"All right." Clark replied, trying to contain his own smile.
It was at that moment that he smelled something different. Something fruity, sweet and sour at the same time.
Strawberry.
He looked around, not seeing anyone eating strawberries or anything like that. It couldn't be Yn, since obviously she couldn't.
Unless…
Clark saw the scene in slow motion. Her taking the candy from the box, slowly bringing it to her lips. The strawberry scent became intense. He used his vision and glanced quickly at the donut, the strawberry jam dangerously close to her lips.
"NO!" he yelled, snatching the donut from her hand in a movement so fast it seemed superhuman.
"Clark?! What was that?!" she asked, watching him walk away with the donut as if it were a weapon.
"Strawberry… Yours has strawberry jam inside." He opened the donut and showed it to his friend, and everyone else watching the scene.
"Oh my God!" Lois exclaimed.
"EPIPEN! EPIPEN! EPIPEN!" Jimmy yelled, jumping up from his chair, falling a few times on the way before reaching his friend's table. "WHERE'S THE EPIPEN?!" he cried, sobbing, his hands trembling and tears already welling in his eyes.
"JIMMY!" Yn shouted, drawing her panicked friend's attention. "I didn't eat it!"
"Oh… This… This is a relief…" he said, finally collapsing to the floor.
"What's going on here?! " Perry asked, coming out of his office with worry and irritation etched on his face.
"Yn… Strawberry… "Jimmy said between breaths, as if still panicked.
"I didn't eat it! " she said, correcting her friend, not wanting to cause panic. "Clark stopped me before… before I bit the donut" as proof, he held up the pastry to Perry.
"Back to work… Someone take Jimmy to the infirmary."
"I'll go…" she said, walking to her fallen friend, trying not to think about how Clark knew about the donut. How he was quick to take it from her hands…
How could he know about the strawberry jam anyway?!
But on that particular night, Clark made the mistake of arriving early.
Yn didn't open the door; instead, she yelled for him to come in. She was probably in the kitchen, listening to loud music, and Clark knew she was dancing.
He took the opportunity to look around. It wasn't his first time there; they'd spent nights together watching movies, doing research, and rehearsing for interviews.
But something was different.
The living room wall was different.
There were dozens of photos of Superman, some blurry, others sharp and perfect. There were also interviews he'd given to the Daily Planet, all signed by Clark.
In addition, there were "clues" and questions like:
"How does he hide in the city?"
"Does he have a job?"
"He must wear a disguise when he's not saving the world… Right?"
Everything connected by colored wires, pins, and colored ribbons.
"Did you like it?" she said, appearing beside him.
"It's… Bizarre."
"What? No! I used colored ribbons to be less… Obsessive!"
It didn't work.
"Does your therapist know about this? " he asked in a tone of: I don't want to make you angry, but this isn't normal.
"Ha ha ha" she said, taking his hand and dragging him to the kitchen. "I hope you're hungry… I made roast chicken with vegetables… Martha Kent's recipe."
"You didn't make that" he said, running to the oven and opening it to smell it. Clark took the chicken pan out of the oven and placed it on the counter. "This smells amazing…"
"Oh my God, Clark!!!" she yelled, grabbing his hands and shoving them under the cold water tap.
That's when he realized his mistake.
"Stay there! I'll get the burn ointment dont get out of the water!!!" she exclaimed, running to the bedroom. He was speechless for a few seconds, thinking about how foolish his actions had been, putting everything at risk, and how he could get out of this situation. "I'm back! Let me see." She turned off the tap, pulling her hands to a clean towel and drying them so gently that Clark forgot how to breathe. "Clark… They're not burned…"
"That's good, right?" he joked. "I won't need ointment?"
"How are you not burned? The oven is on and…"
"Do I have strong hands?" he said as a question, but he meant it as an answer.
"That doesn't make sense."
"Shall we eat? I'm starving! And the sooner we eat, the sooner we can see your… not-so-obsessive wall." he said, guiding her to the small dining area, trying not to let her think about what had happened there.
Yn was convinced by Clark, shifting her focus to her not-so-obsessive painting of Superman while they ate dinner. Days later, the two were working late at the Daily Planet. A report that needed to be delivered by eleven o'clock at night about a local business, nothing special. Nothing super.
Clark was tired, Yn was exhausted, but neither of them could go home yet.
He still took advantage of the seconds Yn fell asleep to quickly use his super speed and type faster, but it was still laborious and tiring.
"Clark, your glasses are dirty," she said, in a movement he couldn't predict, taking his glasses off his face and wiping them on her shirt. "What is it?"
"A… eyelash fell in my eye," Clark said, using the first excuse that came to his mind to cover his eyes and face.
"Let me see—CLARK!?" He jumped out of his chair, falling backward and grabbing his glasses faster than she could react.
"Sorry… I have a phobia of people touching my eye." He offered an excuse to his friend's incredulous face. "Shall we finish this?"
The article was published on time, luckily.
Exactly two days later, Friday night, Yn called Clark to dinner again.
He believed it would be another night discussing Superman's possible identity, so he accepted.
He certainly didn't expect the entire hallway to smell like a banquet.
"Did you get carried away tonight?" he asked, this time taking care to take the dish out of the oven with cloths to "protect" his hands.
"It's a special night" she replied as if nothing had happened.
Dinner was normal. Peculiarly normal.
"Dessert!" yn said as soon as Clark put the last bite in his mouth, practically snatching the plate from him.
"You're anxious today," he joked.
"You have no idea," she said, going into the kitchen and returning with two cupcakes on a plate. "Take yours," she offered.
Clark looked at the cupcakes.
Small, round, golden. A slightly crispy crust, a generous layer of powdered sugar sprinkled on top. They looked innocent. They looked delicious.
The smell, however, screamed.
Strawberry.
Fresh strawberry, sweet strawberry, sour strawberry. Strawberry in the batter, strawberry in the filling, strawberry in every damn molecule of air that came out of those little killer cupcakes.
Clark froze.
"What is this?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. His hand hung in the air, reluctant to pick up the plate.
"Dessert," Yn replied simply. She had already grabbed her cupcake with both hands, like someone holding a treasure. "Go on, take yours."
Clark didn't take it.
He sniffed the air once, twice, three times. His eyes focused on Yn's cupcake with an intensity that should have been reserved for alien threats.
Strawberry jam.
In the center.
Right in the middle.
The perfect bite would send that jam straight into her bloodstream in seconds.
"Clark?" Yn tilted her head, the cupcake already inches from her lips. "Are you okay?" he was trembling.
"NO!"
He moved before he could think.
The table trembled. The silverware clinked. Clark's water glass tipped over, spilling liquid onto the red heart-patterned tablecloth Yn had placed (he noticed now, it was new) and he snatched the cupcake from her hand in such a quick movement that the air hissed.
Both cupcakes were now in his hands.
Yn stared at her own empty fingers.
Then she looked at Clark.
Then she smiled.
"I knew it." Clark opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. His Kryptonian brain, capable of processing information at supersonic speed, completely froze.
"You…" he began, his voice a whisper. "You knew. You knew there were strawberries in here."
"I knew it."
"You were going to eat them anyway?"
"I was."
"ARE YOU CRAZY?!"
He jumped up from his chair so fast the furniture creaked against the floor. The cupcakes were still in his hands, held high in the air as if they were evidence of a crime. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and even though it was impossible for Superman to hyperventilate, there he was.
"You were going to DIE, Yn! Strawberries! You're allergic to STRAWBERRIES! I saw you almost die once because of that cursed fruit and you were just going to EAT A CAKE FILLED WITH IT ON PURPOSE?!"
"You're Superman."
The words hung in the air.
Clark stopped breathing.
The kitchen became so silent he could hear the sugar falling into Lois's coffee… And Lois was twelve blocks away.
"You…" he swallowed hard. His face, already pale by nature, turned as white as chalk. "You did it on purpose."
"You're Superman."
"You did it on purpose to test my reaction."
"YOU'RE SUPERMAN!" she practically screamed, slamming her open hand on the table. The noise made Clark jump—and he'd been jumping internally for several seconds. "How did you do that? The cupcake was in my hand, Clark! IN MY HAND! A second later it was in yours! You moved faster than MY EYES! My reporter's eyes that are TRAINED to capture details!"
"I… have quick reflexes?" he tried, his voice coming out in a high-pitched tone that wasn't at all convincing.
"And the oven!?"
"The oven?"
"THE OVEN, CLARK!" she stood up too, pointing an accusing finger at the murderous appliance. " You picked up a ROAST CHICKEN pan with your HANDS! No gloves! No cloth! NOTHING! The oven was at two hundred degrees! I SAW the thermometer!"
"Strong hands…"
"STRONG HANDS DON'T PROTECT YOU FROM SECOND-DEGREE BURNS, CLARK!" she circled the table, approaching him. Clark took a step back. She took two steps forward. The kitchen wall was dangerously close. "And the glasses!"
"The glasses?"
"You freaked out when I took your glasses off! Not because you're squeamish about eye contact. You freaked out because without them you look like SUPERMAN!"
Clark slammed his back against the wall.
Literally.
There was nowhere left to run.
Yn stopped in front of him, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with that intensity she used to dismantle witnesses in court and corrupt politicians in interviews. She was wearing an old t-shirt and jeans with a rip in the knee. Her hair was still wet from the shower. She smelled of vanilla shampoo.
She was, by far, the most terrifying thing Clark had ever faced.
Worse than Darkseid. Worse than Apokolips. Worse than that five-dimensional alien who tried to erase his existence.
"You are Superman," she said again, but this time it wasn't an accusation. It was a statement. As if she were saying "grass is green" or "Perry White drinks black coffee."
Clark collapsed.
Not metaphorically (well, maybe a little metaphorically), he let his shoulders slump, let the tension trickle through his fingers, and sighed so deeply it felt like all the air in Metropolis had entered and left his lungs.
"I am Superman," he admitted.
His voice came out different. Deeper. Less awkward Clark Kent, more… Him. The real one.
He expected screams. He expected her to back away. He expected fear, or anger, or some reaction that would justify the five years he'd spent hiding it.
Yn just nodded, as if she'd just confirmed the coffee was hot.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?" she asked. There was no accusation in her voice. Just curiosity. Just that insatiable hunger to understand things that made her such a good journalist.
Clark looked away.
He looked at the cookies, still in his hands, now slightly squashed from the force with which he had held them, and then at the kitchen window, where the lights of Metropolis blinked below.
"I needed to keep you safe." The answer came easier than he imagined. Perhaps because it was true. Perhaps because he had repeated that phrase to himself thousands of times, on nights when he flew above the city thinking of her. "You already put yourself at too much risk running after me. Running from the police. Going into burning buildings."
"Uh-huh."
"Going after kaiju."
"True."
"Approaching armed robbers."
"That's it."
"Yn, you're a walking calamity." He finally looked her in the eyes. "And I… I didn't want you to be a target too. If people knew you were important to me, that I… That I care so much for you… They would use you against me." And I don't know what I would do if something happened to you because of me.
Silence returned.
Yn looked away first.
"Fair enough," she murmured, biting her lower lip. "Fair enough. It's a good reason."
"You're angry."
"I am," she admitted. "I'm not going to lie. I'm angry that you didn't tell me. I'm your best friend, Clark. We share everything. I told you about my father. I told you about my depression when my son died."
"Bob Bubbles was a very special fish."
"He was an excellent fish," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "I cried for three hours on your shoulder…"
"You were vulnerable!"
"Of course I was vulnerable, my son died!" she took a deep breath. "Oh, man… I should have realized it sooner. It's so obvious. You're clumsy, you wear nerdy glasses, you're always apologizing for things you didn't do… It's the perfect disguise."
"Thank you… I guess?"
"It was a compliment," she shrugged. "Oh my God, I was wrong about the wall."
"The wall?"
"My not-so-obsessive wall," she pointed toward the living room. "Everything's wrong there. I thought Superman wore a technological disguise, or had some kind of holographic projection, or lived in a spaceship hidden under the sea… I never thought it was… My best friend."
"You said my disguise was good," he used her word against her.
"Yeah…I said that." she ran her hands over her face. "You're the most powerful man on the planet, and I saw you spill coffee on your shirt three times this week."
"It was only twice," she said with a single look. "It was three times."
She approached again, but this time not to accuse. She simply stood there, in front of him, looking at the face she swore she knew, which now seemed slightly different in a new light.
"You can apologize," she said finally.
"Can I?"
"You can." Yn smiled. It was a dangerous smile. Clark knew that smile. That was the smile she wore when she was about to get something she really wanted. "Letting me interview you."
Clark snorted.
"Yn…"
"An interview, Clark." She raised a finger. "An exclusive. Just one. I swear on my reporter soul I'll never ask you for another."
"You're lying."
"I'm lying shamelessly," she agreed. "But you're going to let me anyway."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because you owe me," she replied simply. "Because you lied to me for years. Because I'm your best friend." Because I was going to eat a strawberry muffin ON PURPOSE to prove you were Superman and you don't want me to do that again.
Clark stared at her.
She stared back.
Her eyes were such a unique color. Of course, not technically. But in a unique way. Maybe it was the shade, or the way they sparkled when she got excited. Whatever it was, they were unique.
"Okay," he conceded, and it was as if a piece of Krypton had fallen from his chest. "An interview."
"AN INTERVIEW!" Yn exclaimed, jumping for joy. "YOU WON'T REGRET IT, CLARK!"
"I already am regretting it," he murmured, but he was smiling. He couldn't help it. Her smile was as contagious as fire on dry paper.
"Monday," she was already running to the living room, probably looking for a notepad. "Where do you want to do it? On the Planet? On your rooftop? IN SPACE? Can I do it in space?"
"We're not going to do it in space."
"You're so uptight."
"And you're forbidden from eating anything that contains strawberries" He followed her into the living room, the cupcakes still in his hands. He was going to throw them away (burn them). Later. When she wasn't looking. "Or that might contain strawberries. Or that smells like strawberries. Or that lives near a strawberry."
"That's abusive control."
"That's keeping you alive… And it's constant work."
Yn stopped in the middle of the room, turned to him, and for a second her smile disappeared. It gave way to something more serious. Something Clark couldn't read.
"Thank you" she said softly. "For saving me. Last time. In the building."
"Always." the answer came out before he could think. It came out heavy and warm and too true. "Always, yn". She nodded once, then turned her back to him with a dramatic flourish.
"MONDAY!" she yelled, rushing into her room. "IT'S GOING TO BE THE BIGGEST INTERVIEW IN THE DAILY PLANET! PERRY'S GOING TO HAVE TO GIVE ME A RAISE! I'M GOING TO WIN A PULITZER!"
"You're not going to win a Pulitzer for interviewing your best friend!"
"I'M GOING TO TRY ANYWAY!"
Clark stood in the living room, surrounded by photos of himself, false leads, and colorful wires. He stared at the non-obsessive picture. At the blurry photo Yn had taken of him last month, him catching a cat in a tree, a story so small it wasn't even worth telling.
She knew.
She knew the secret.
He just hoped she wouldn't find out the other one.
What he had kept in his heart since the day she stumbled into the Daily Planet, knocking over a stack of newspapers and cursing the floor as if it had personally offended her.
What he felt every time she laughed. Every time she called him "Clark" in a tone that felt like home. Every time she showed up at work with two coffees, even on days when he hadn't even asked.
What he felt now, looking down the hallway where she had disappeared, hearing the sound of her rummaging through drawers looking for a crumpled notepad.
"Found it!" she shouted from inside the room. "Let's work out the details, Clark! I want questions about Krypton! About your parents! ABOUT YOUR BEAUTY ROUTINE!"
"I don't have a beauty routine!"
"EVERYONE HAS A BEAUTY ROUTINE, CLARK!"
He smiled.
She knew a secret.
He could still keep the other one.
