You wake up next to Clark in his childhood bedroom, but something sounds different
Warnings/tags: fluff, Clark is completely obsessed with reader, sleepy!clark, reader knows Clark is Superman, established relationship
Writers note: this literally just popped into my brain an hour before I need to go to work so I apologise for any errors (also, can you tell I love writing Clark with a southern accent)
Masterlist here
Clark had finally found the time to visit Smallville, and you had finally gone with him. In the year and a bit that you've been together, life had gotten so busy. Clark still tried to visit home when he could, but often times had to leave you back in Metropolis.
But this time, you'd both booked some time off of work and had travelled down to Kansas together. You'd met Martha and Jonathan before when they travelled up to the city and they'd completely showered you with love. So much so that you and Martha had developed a routine of sharing recipes over the phone every few weeks, so you were excited to spend some time with them in Smallville and get to know them more.
When you first got there, you were taken aback by how adorable Clark's childhood room looks. His various trophies and books from school still stand exactly where you imagined they were when he first moved out, and his band posters were adorably dorky. You didn't anticipate how small the best would be though.
Sharing a king bed back in the city was snug enough with your 6'4 kryptonian boyfriend, but a double bed was even more of a struggle. You'd spent the night practically on top of Clark trying to fit comfortably with limited space. Clark didn't mind at all. In fact, he slept like a baby. The combination of his childhood bed and his girlfriend cuddled so closely was perfect to him. You managed to get enough sleep, but you'd still considered grabbing some cushions from the couch to create a makeshift floor bed for the rest of the trip.
Truthfully, you'd never seen Clark sleep so deeply. He was usually awake before you and already reading a newspaper or a book with an arm around you by the time you stirred. Maybe his brain was just constantly wired thinking of new articles, or maybe he was always on guard, waiting to be needed for his Superman duties. It was a nice surprise to see him so relaxed. You almost didn't care how much sleep you'd get if it meant Clark could be comfortable.
You wake up with Clark in your arms. The second night had been much more successful and you'd found a position that was comfortable for you both. Plus, although he'd never admit it out loud, Clark did love being the little spoon.
You'd stay still, not wanting to stir him awake prematurely. Instead, you grab the high school yearbook that's sat on his bedside table for god knows how many years. You flick through the pages, finding Clark on many of them. He's featured for his various sports teams, awards, and competitions he participated in. In every group photo, he towers over all of his peers. It makes you chuckle that the massive man lying on your chest was once an equally tall, dorky yet overachieving teenager. After a few minutes, you feel him beginning to stir. You place the book back on the table, and stroke the dark curls that have fallen in front of his forehead in his sleep.
"Morning, baby," you say softly, planting a kiss on the top of his head.
He clears his throat.
"Mornin' darlin'," he says, his voice low and gravelly like you've never heard before. His southern drawl escaping in a way it never does in the city. You're surprised by the sudden shift in his voice. He's always had a low voice, honestly it's something you love. But this is something different.
"Honey, are you feeling ok? Do you need a cough drop?" you ask, unsure of where this voice has come from but also failing to disguise how much you're enjoying it. He lets out a low chuckle.
"No, darlin' I'm fine. Just tired still," he says, his voice still deep.
"You just sound.... different. That's all," you respond. He chuckles again.
"Sounds to me like you're enjoying it," he says playfully. You don't respond. Instead you silently blush. He opens his eyes and looks up at your face, covered in pink. He laughs to himself before crawling out of bed.
He takes a sip of water from the glass on the table, stretches his arms, and opens the curtains. You watch him quietly, admiring him.
"What do you wanna do today, honey?" he says, his voice staying to return to normal, but still retaining a hint of his accent. You pout.
"Awh, I was liking the sleepy voice," you say, faking upset.
"Well, there's always tomorrow mornin'," he says, planting a kiss to your cheek.
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Hi cutie!! I have a request pls! Could you do one where reader is Clark’s childhood bff and he’s been painfully in love with her and she is dating a douche bag at the planet and he is yearning a lot and just wants her to notice him so he starts taking advice from jimmy and is super stupid and she finally breaks up with her douche bf after he cheats on her and her and Clark see and tells Clark she’s always been looking for someone who will treat her right and Clark gets frustrated and tells her he will treat her right and it’s lowkey wholesome? Tysm cutie ik it’s long!! I love your writing!!
I'm here, right here.
You finally end things with your toxic fiancé. When things go wrong, Clark is always there, he always has been. Maybe he's what you've been looking for all along?
Warnings/tags: not proofread lol, reader is initially dating Steve, toxic relationship, cheating, undertones of abuse, childhoodfriend!Clark, Jim and Pam type romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, protective!clark, wholesome!clark, angst/comfort, cheesy confession of love, reader knows Clark is Superman
Writer's note: thanks for the suggestion! this fic is lightly inspired by Jim and Pam from the office, your suggestion reminded me so much of it so i hope you enjoy! i made some changes for plot purposes but hope you still like it :) also, new divider!!
Word count: 9.5k
Masterlist here
It's been six years since you started working at the Daily Planet. Clark, your best friend from home, gave you the push to apply for a role. He'd graduated high school and college a year ahead of you, and wanted to give you all the help he could coming into the real world. It also helped that he'd been in love with you since you were kids.
You're completely oblivious of course. In fact, you did find someone in the office, just not Clark. You've been engaged to Steve for four years now. You haven't gotten around to setting a date, but it's fine. You're happy. Or as happy as anyone working a minimum wage 9-5 in a big, lonely city can be. Plus, Steve is always so busy. He's always got a game he needs to attend with his friends - "I'm a sports journalist, it's my job". He's not wrong, but that baseball game he blew off your guys' only date night in the last three months for? Never appeared in the paper. You never admitted to yourself how much that one hurt. It wasn't a one-off either, it's a pattern.
But you suppose a man needs social time. You're happy. That's what you tell yourself to get through the week.
It helps having your friend in such close proximity. Clark would never say a bad word about Steve, but you know they're not the closest. They're just so different. Clark is quiet, and kind and funny. And Steve is.... well, Steve.
Honestly, you never thought you'd go for a 'man's man' like Steve. You'd always been into the quiet, sensitive kind, like Clark. But this is your life. And it's enough, you suppose.
Tonight is the Daily Planet annual charity gala. You've been looking forward to it for months; one evening to hang out with your work friends and put on a nice outfit for once.
"So, did you finally splurge on a new dress? I mean, I love you, but if that man isn't gonna get you down an aisle in a white dress anytime soon then you should treat yourself to something new," Cat says.
"I know how you feel about him, it'll happen when the time is right, ok? But yes I did splurge. You know that red one I was eyeing up when we went window shopping in Saks?" you say.
"That red one? Oh my god, you really did treat yourself, good for you girl," Cat says.
"What did Steve say?" Lois chimes in.
"Well, I may have hidden it in the back of the storage closet so he wouldn't see it in my bedroom. You know how he is about spending money when we don't need to. I think he's nervous about the wedding budget," you say.
"I'm sorry but a $100 dress is nothing compared to that $500 gaming computer he bought last month. Or the $1000 season tickets to the football," Lois says, with that familiar disappointed look on her face.
"Lois-," you begin to say, tone asking her to let up.
"Look, I know you're madly in love with him, but is this really how you want to spend the rest of your life? Abiding by his rules that even he doesn't stick to? He doesn't even want to set a wedding date, or move in with you. Isn't that maybe a sign?" she says.
"Lo, it's just a dress. And we are trying to save for the wedding," you say, voice small. You know on some level that she's right.
"But it's not just that. You could have any other guy. We all know that some part of you doesn't want this. And we've all seen how you are when you and Clark are together-" she says.
"Don't say that kind of thing. We're best friends, always have been. If someone overhears you, what would they say," you snap.
"And you wouldn't be able to deny it. Look, I'll support whatever you do. I'm saying this because I love you and I want you to be happy. I don't want my friend to be stuck being just happy enough. You deserve more," she says, before picking up her coffee cup and walking away.
"She does have a point," Cat says. You exhale deeply.
"That's why it hurts so much to hear her say it," you squeak out.
Part of your heart has always beat for Clark. Even as kids, you knew you felt something deeper than just friendship. But he's your best friend, you never wanted to risk ruining that. And then Steve came along and the rest is history. Any feelings you once had are ancient history.
"Hey, baby," you hear a familiar voice call out. Steve's walking over, that familiar hint of guilt in your stomach hits, the one you get when Clark lingers in your mind for a second too long.
"Hey," you say, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. You know you can't hide the guilt on your face but know he won't notice.
"So, I'm gonna be out late tonight. Me and the boys are going to the bar. Put dinner in my fridge for me like always?" he says, more like a statement than a question.
"It's the gala tonight. You said you were gonna come. I bought a dress and everything," you say, visibly upset. He's ditching you yet again.
"Sorry, babe. I totally forgot. You can still go, just swing by my apartment and leave me a sandwich before you head out," he says flippantly.
"But I was looking forward to spending time with you, and I'm heading straight back to my place to get ready. I told you this last week," you say.
"We'll hang out this weekend, yeah? Maybe you can show me this new dress you bought," he says, moving suggestively towards you. Hang out? He's your fiancé, you don't just 'hang out'. And acting like this at work? "Did you go shopping at Nordstrom with Cat again?"
"No, I went to Saks. I saved for a while and budgeted and I wanted it for so long," you say, pre-emptively trying to justify the purchase.
"Wait, how much was it?" he says, immediately defensive.
"$100. But I saved and-" you say.
"We can't afford that right now. We're saving for your wedding," he says loudly. The way he gets angry so quickly never fails to shake you.
"It's our wedding, Steve. How come I can't buy one thing that I've saved for, but you can buy a computer, and season tickets and all these other things you don't need? But the second I want one thing for myself, it becomes a problem?" you say, getting upset.
"See, this is the problem with you. You wanted the wedding and now you're yelling at me because you wasted your money? I can't deal with your drama right now," he says, storming off.
"Wow, that was rough to watch," Jimmy says. "You must hate this. Watching the woman you've grown up with and loved for so long get treated like this." His words sound sincere, but his tone is mocking.
Clark stares at the scene from afar, you left standing, trying to hold back tears.
"Shame you won't do anything about it, though," he continues.
"What am I supposed to do, Jimmy? She says she's happy, who am I to get in the way of that?" Clark says.
"You're also her best friend, man. I have no idea how you've gone this long without stepping in. I mean, if this were my best friend, I'd have told her to run a long time ago," Jimmy says.
"You know it's more complicated than that. She's not just my best friend," Clark says, scratching his neck.
"You've been in love with her for years. Of course it's complicated, but you can't just stand by. Either do something or move past it," Jimmy says.
"I wish she'd realise it herself. I just want her to see what I see. Even if she doesn't feel the same, I just want her to know I'm here," Clark says. He lowers his voice. "I love her, Jimmy. I can't just stand and watch while she ruins her chance at happiness."
"Then tell her," Jimmy says. "Even if she says no, even if she doesn't love you back, just tell her, man. Otherwise you'll never move on."
Clark stays silent for a moment.
"Or you can just keep giving her sad puppy eyes from across the room, that works too," Jimmy says.
It hurts him to watch you be treated like this, but what else can he do? He doesn't want to risk ruining your friendship.
You've been friends since you can remember. You've been attached at the hip basically since birth. Martha trusts you with her most secret recipes, and Jonathan first taught you to drive a car. Your parents see Clark as the son they never had. Years of carpools, scrapes and bruises from playing on the farm, and earliest and dearest memories together. When Clark's powers became impossible to hide from you, you helped him cope with the burden on his shoulders. You keep his biggest secret, and he supports you. Even now in the big city, you cherish working together.
"Maybe I'll tell her. But not now. She needs a friend, not another complication," he says.
You're sat your desk, trying to focus on editing your latest article, but you can't stop thinking about what Steve said. How did it get like this? He was genuinely kind and loving in the beginning. How did you let yourself get treated like that? A man who creates rules for you, who belittles you. But the moments when he isn't like that are what keeps you going, what keeps you hoping for a happy future. But, honestly, you're reconsidering.
The last few years are starting to feel like a waste. You're one snap away from breaking it off altogether, but part of you still hopes he'll turn it around.
Your train of thought is broken by a coffee cup and brown paper bag being placed on your desk. You look up and see Clark.
"Hey, you," you say, sniffling back the lingering tears, trying to put on a brave face. Although Clark's never said it, you know he doesn't exactly approve of your relationship. You see it in the worried glances he throws you, silently letting you know he'll get you out of any uncomfortable situation. He's always been stable like that. Kind, constant.
"Hey, you ok? I saw what happened. Nasty fight, huh?" he says with sincerity in his eyes. You nod. "Well, luckily that bakery down the street had one of those donuts you like, thought it might cheer you up."
"Thank you, but yeah, I'm ok. It was a dumb fight, my fault really," you say with a sad chuckle, knowingly downplaying what happened.
"We both know you're never the instigator of a fight. I mean the, what, two times we've ever argued who's fault was it?" he says trying to lighten your mood up.
"To be fair, I did tell you to close the gate to the pigsty, and those suspenders definitely weren't the look for senior picture day," you laugh.
"Exactly. You're never wrong. And even the rare times when you are, you don't fight, you don't shout. You talk. And you reflect. I know I wasn't there, but from what I heard you're not in the wrong at all," he says. He places his hand on your shoulder and gives it a comforting squeeze.
"Listen, if anything's going on, you can tell me. You don't deserve to be spoken to like that," he says, lowering his voice. "If you're honestly completely happy, I'll support you. But I know you, and I know you don't deserve that."
His words strike you. How gentle and thoughtful he is makes your heart twist. You're realising how opposite him and Steve are. Steve's loud, confrontational personality and Clark's gentle but firm tone. He cares so deeply. How could you not see this before. Maybe you should've followed your heart all this time. But it's too late now. Look at the mess of your love life.
"Thank you, Clark," you whisper. "Maybe you're right. I should put my foot down more".
His face is a mix of emotions; relief that you're finally understanding that you don't deserve to be treated like this, but also disappointment that you're resigning yourself to stay in an unhappy relationship. But at least he's said his piece, albeit leaving out the most important part about how he loves you.
"At least you've got tonight to look forward to, you're still going, right?" he says.
"I dunno, I'm feeling kinda drained," you say.
"I know, but don't let it stop you from enjoying life. You deserve to have fun. How about this, if at any point you want to leave, I'll drive you home," He says. You're about to protest him going out of his way to care for you when he interrupts. "I'm not drinking anyway, and we both know it wouldn't make a difference if I was." He gives you a knowing wink, yellow sun and all. "So it's no trouble. And if it means you get to have a fun time I'm more than happy to be your safety net."
You can't help but smile at him. What would you do without him?
"Ok, ok, I'll come," you say, feigning reluctance. Really, you're kinda relived you can have one night with just your friends and Clark. No fiancé drama, no fights, just fun.
"Good, I'll see you there. Enjoy the donut," he says, patting your shoulder as he walks away.
You watch him as he walks back to his desk. Your stomach flutters in a way it hasn't since the early days of your relationship. Clark's always been a kind, constant figure in your life, but it's just now hitting you how much love and care he as for you. And how deeply you feel for him. Your relationship with him has always been about respect and understanding; every good friendship is. But now you see that the way he makes you feel isn't anything like your other friendships, or anything like Steve. It's deep.
You can't imagine what life would be like without him. That year of him in the city and you still at college was the loneliest you've ever felt. You'd called every day but you know you can barely breathe without him. You've never felt that with Steve. On nights Clark's on his patrol, you sleep on the couch with the balcony door unlocked, just in case he's injured or can't make it home. On the days Steve's ditched you again, Clark comes over and makes on of his Ma's pie recipes with you.
You've missed what's been right in front of you this whole time. This quiet routine and love just under the surface. You can't continue with Steve. Even if you and Clark just stay friends, you deserve a better kind of love; Clark's kind. Gentle, unconditional, respectful. But you try to put it out of your mind for now. Get the gala out of the way and then sort out the mess that is your love life.
You're getting ready for the gala. You've taken a nice hot shower and cleaned off the tears from earlier. It helped get rid of the worst of it but the lingering dread of what's to come hangs over you.
You've decided. You're ending it with Steve. You can't live like this anymore, and Clark's words have given you the courage to end it. But tonight isn't about that; that's tomorrow's problem. Still, you take off your $50 engagement ring and put it in your purse, washing off the green stain it's left on your hand after all these years.
Putting on your new dress perks you up. The red compliments the curls in your hair and the shimmery lip gloss on your lips. You dig your favourite heels out of the closet, the ones Steve says are 'too slutty for self respecting woman', and head to the gala.
The venue is the Metropolis Art Gallery. You and Clark frequently it visit on the weekends, but it looks even more beautiful with the twinkling lights tonight. You walk into the main room and find a painting to admire. It's busy but you don't see Cat or Lois yet, so you stand.
Alone, until you feel a gentle brush against your shoulder. You look next to you and see Clark standing and admiring the painting, two drinks in his hands. He's wearing a black suit, not like the comically ill-fitting one he wears to work, but perfectly tailored. The fabric clings to his arms in a way that makes your eyes linger for a second too long. It takes you back to the summers of watching him on the farm in his flannel, sleeve rolled up, lifting hay bales. You never realised just how much you stare at him. You've never really seen him in this light before. He's beautiful. Even moreso than the art you've been pretending to look at.
"Drink?" he says, passing a glass your way, shocking you out of your daze.
"Thanks," you say, brushing off the nerves that you feel building up.
You stand silently together, looking at the painting on the wall. It's comfortable. But your mind can't help but wander. You feel your cheeks turning hot.
"You look warm, want me to take your jacket to the coat room?" he say. You hadn't even realised you were still wearing your jacket, the walk from your apartment was bracing so a big, woollen jacket was a necessity.
"I forgot I even had it on, thanks Clark," you say, gently removing it from your shoulders. You fold it carefully and go to hand it to him. His face is frozen. His cheeks are glowing with pink and his eyes are wide behind his glasses.
"Earth to Clark? Is there something on my face?" you say.
"No. Just. You look beautiful. That dress is lovely on you," he says with a soft gentleness you'd never sensed before. Your cheeks burn harder.
"Oh, thank you. You look great as well. Very handsome," you reply coyly. Your eyes lock for a moment too long. You pass the coat towards him. He nods and heads towards the coat room.
Cat and Lois finally join you and you find a table to sit at. You're chatting away with your friends, but you keep noticing Clark looking at you from across the room. He doesn't look at all engrossed in his conversation with Jimmy, his eyes are fixated on you. Cat and Lois notice as well. Maybe he does see you as more than a best friend. Is there a chance you could have what you've been missing all these years?
Just then, you hear a loud commotion. You turn and see Steve and his friends drunkenly stumbling into the room. And there's a girl with them. You get up and head over, pulling him to the side.
"Hey, I decided to come after all," he slurs.
"This isn't ok. You're drunk. Go home, Steve," you say sternly.
"Oh c'mon babe, don't be a buzzkill," he says. Before you can say anything back, the girl comes over.
"Stevie, who is this? I don't remember you mentioning you had a sister," she says. She puts her arm around his and cuddles into him. What the actual fuck?
"Stevie? Sister? What the fuck is going on? Who are you?" you say. His eyes widen as if he's suddenly sobered up.
"Well, it's not official or anything but we've been seeing each other for a few months. Steve, do you seriously not mention me to your co workers?" she says. She clearly has no clue what's going on. It's not her fault, it's entirely his.
"Steve, have you been cheating on me?" you say quietly. He doesn't accept or deny it. Instead he starts spluttering out excuses. You can smell the alcohol on his breath.
"Save it. I was already hanging on by a thread but this is the last straw. We're done," you say. You take the ring out of your purse and place it in his jacket pocket. You turn to walk away, clinging onto your last shred of dignity.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he shouts. Everyone turns to look. You freeze.
"You're seriously gonna throw years down the drain for one mistake? Don't be a bitch, you don't mean it. You're gonna wake up tomorrow and realise what a massive mistake you're making," he says, getting in your face.
"The only mistake I made was staying for as long as I have," you say trying to back away.
"You bitch. No one will ever love you. Look how long I put up with you for, you'll never find that again," he shouts. You have no more fight left in you. Instead, the tears start to flood. You try to walk away but he grabs your wrist.
You turn and lock eyes with him. You don't recognise him anymore, and any love you ever had for who he used to be is gone. Suddenly, Clark comes between the two of you, not using force, just by placing himself in front of you. He pulls Steve's hand off your arm. You don't hear what he says to Steve, but it shocks him enough that you don't hear a rebuttal. Instead, he glares daggers at you, grabs the girl's hand, and leaves.
Perry comes over. You're half expecting to be chewed out for making a scene.
"I don't know what's gone on between you two, but trust that we don't tolerate his kind of behaviour here. We'll deal with him, you won't have to see him in the office if you decide to come in on Monday," he says.
Perry is usually tough on everyone, but it's clear that's because he cares. You feel somewhat relieved to know you won't have to face him on Monday. But you're incredibly overwhelmed. This was supposed to be an enjoyable evening. But now you just want to curl up in bed and forget the world.
"Clark, can you take me home?" you say quietly, a tear streaming down your cheek. Clark doesn't say a word. Instead, he nods and immediately grabs your jacket and his keys.
The ride home is quiet. You quietly sip the bottle of water he grabbed for you on the way out.
"I know you probably don't want to talk about it right now, but I think you did the right thing," he says, breaking the silence. "And I'm sorry you had to experience that. You don't deserve that."
"I know that now. And I think it was the right decision. I was planning to end it this weekend anyway. I suppose in a way it's kinda good he gave me a tangible reason to break it off," you say, sniffling. "Honestly, without him doing this tonight I think he would've found a way to guilt me into staying."
You take note of how hard he's gripping the steering wheel, and the clench of his jaw. He looks like he's holding in a mix on anger and upset.
"Clark, can I ask you something?" you say.
"You can ask me anything," he says softly, but the undertone of restraint is still there.
"What did you say to him to get him to leave?" you ask.
He stays silent for a moment. His jaw clenches harder. By the time he goes to open his mouth, you've already arrived back at your apartment.
"Want me to walk you up?" he says. You nod.
As you get into your apartment, the weight of the last few hours lingers. You know he has a key to your apartment. There's nothing to suggest anything would happen, realistically you know it won't, but the possibility of another argument, another confrontation drawing this out makes you feel vulnerable.
"Do you remember that summer when we were nine, and I kept having those nightmares about a monster in my closet?" you say. He looks at you, puzzled at first but willing to humour you as always.
"Of course, I slept over at yours every night for a month. Why do you mention it now?" he says, brow raised. You look at him, eyes pleading.
"Oh, I see," he says, understanding what's going on. "Go and get some pjs on, grab a blanket and my spare clothes and I'll get some hot chocolate going on the stove." His immediate willingness to stay warms your heart in the way only he can. His hot chocolate is like emotional medicine, a comfort only he can bring you. It's his Ma's recipe that he somehow made even better by adding a dash of cinnamon and vanilla. You always keep the ingredients on hand for him. Sometimes you've caught him making some in the middle of the night when he's crashed at yours after a patrol.
So, he dishes it up into your favourite mug, and the spare one he keeps in your cupboard, before heading to the bathroom to change into his spare clothes. You keep one of his old Smallville High shirts and a pair of sweats in the back of your closet for him. You never realised how much of him is integrated into your home, how much space you hold for him.
You sit on the couch in silence, the tv humming faintly in the background. He doesn't dare ask what you're thinking, he doesn't want to risk upsetting you. But watching your sullen eyes and tear stained cheek, he just wants to tell you he loves you. He's dying for you to know that you're worthy of healthy love, and you're so much more valued than you know. But, now isn't the time. Now, he has to be your best friend.
You finish your hot chocolate, and Clark takes the mugs back to the kitchen. You stare off mindlessly at the tv, hearing the sound of running water coming from the kitchen. Clark's washing up the mugs and the rest of the dishes without a word, but he's looking at you. Your back is turned but he can see your shoulders twitching like they do when you’ve come down from a big upset.
He dries off his hands when the dishes are done and put away, and comes and sits next to you. He doesn't say a word, he just looks at you, trying to figure out what you're feeling and how he can make it better. You turn your head and your eyes meet his. Something about his expression makes you burst into tears again. You feel safe to let it all out.
He pulls you into him, hugging you tightly. Your arms find his waist and you tuck your head into his shoulder. He gently strokes your hair and whispers that everything will be ok.
"Hey, I'm here, right here. Let it all out," he whispers.
He doesn't pry, doesn't make you talk, he just comforts you without you even needing to ask.
Eventually you tire yourself out. Your eyes feel heavy and he senses you're half asleep on his shoulder when he hears your heartbeat slow. He picks you up and carries you to your bedroom. You barely register what's happening, you're too tired out from the day. He places you into bed, pulls the covers over you, as you drift off to sleep.
He stands in the door frame for a second, watching you. Partly to make sure you're fully asleep and have settled down after the day, partly because he can't help but wish he was beside you. After a minute, he turns and pulls your door closed.
You wake up in your bed. Last thing you remember was sobbing on the couch with Clark. The weight of the day before hits you like a brick, but you don't feel as upset anymore. Facing reality with a full nights sleep has helped you get clarity, you made the right decision.
You notice the blanket pulled over you, your childhood stuffed animal in your arms and your nightstand stocked with a flask of cold water, a box of tissues, and purse from the night before. None of those were there when you came back, Clark must've put you to bed.
You sit up, your senses finally kicking in, and smell something coming from the kitchen. Did he actually stay all night? You throw on your robe and slippers and head into the kitchen. He's stood at the stove frying bacon and eggs. There's already an orange juice waiting on a coaster for you.
"Hey sleepyhead. You sleep ok?" he says, a smile beaming across his face that somehow manages to take away some of yesterdays lingering pain.
"Surprisingly well. I needed it. Did you put me in bed? You didn't have to do that, Clark," you say.
"You were so tired last night. And it was the least I could do," he says.
You look into the living room and see a pillow and blanket on the couch. He really did stay with you. Even though he had to curl up on the tiny couch, he did it without complaint.
"Thank you for staying the night, I think it helped me sleep better. And I'm sorry that you had to curl up on the couch, I owe you some Deep Heat for your back," you joke.
"Don't be silly, it was nothing. I'd do anything if it made you feel safe," he says nonchalantly. But it wasn't nothing. To you, it's everything.
You eat breakfast together. He notices your phone lighting up with Steve's name and buzzing over and over again and, without a word, he turns it off and goes to place it in your nightstand drawer. How did you never notice these little things before? No one has ever made you feel this way before, and it's different to whatever was between you before.
"So, I have a few options for you today," Clark says. He's already decided to spend the day with you? "One, we grab coffee and donuts from that place you like and take Krypto for a walk in the park."
"Kara's making you watch him again? I love him but he's a lot," you laugh
"Last minute party invite from a red planet friend, I know. The idea remains, but maybe we can go without him. I'm sure she can drop him off a day later," he says. "Second idea, we stay home all day, watch some trash TV, and get takeout for dinner."
"That also sounds enticing. What's the third idea?" you say.
"We get coffee and donuts, walk around the park and city for a while, then come home, watch trash TV and order takeout. So basically all of the above," he says.
"You read my mind," you say. "Why don't we swing by your apartment and grab some fresh clothes on the way?"
"Sounds good," he says.
He washes up the dishes from breakfast while you start getting ready. You hop in the shower to wash off last night and start feeling yourself coming back to normal. By the time you're dry and dressed, he's just finishing up cleaning the kitchen counter. You sit and wait until he's done. He looks your way.
"So, are you feeling any better today? I hate to ask and I don't mean to pry, I just want to make sure I'm not overdoing the whole cheering you up thing. Tell me if it's too much, but I'd hate to just see you rot in bed all day," he says, spraying and wiping any remnants of breakfast from the surface.
"It's helping, Clark. Really. I can't even begin to tell you how much I appreciate it," you say.
He smiles.
"Good. Now, I've got your phone in my pocket in case you need it, but I thought it would be best if you were able to have some time away from it since I don't think he's gonna let up for a few more hours, is that ok?" he asks.
"Completely. You're right. Actually, you know my password, can you go in and block his number? I don't want to see any messages from him right now but I definitely don't want him to be able to contact me," you say.
"Of course," he says. He logs in and blocks Steve. "Also I meant to say, Perry called this morning. He said he assumed I'd be with you since he couldn't reach you with your phone turned off and wanted me to relay some info. He didn't say it outright but I think he's fired Steve. He said you won't have to face him at work anymore and I'd imagine his misconduct during the gala is grounds enough for termination."
You pause for a second. Part of you feels like it's your fault. Or is that just your brain anticipating how he'd make you feel about it? Clark can tell exactly what you're thinking.
"It's not your fault. Even if you hadn't ended it there and then, turning up drunk to an office event is enough to consider firing him. It would've happened either way," he says. His words are firm but kind. He needs to you know you're innocent in all this.
"I guess you're right," you say.
"Plus I can't imagine Perry would let anything come in the way of one of his star reporters. He's probably got plenty of sports reporters on speed dial to replace him, but no one could replace you," he says, before tapping his fingers on the counter and turning to grab his shoes.
And so, you spend the day together. You swing by Clark's apartment and let him get changed. He puts on a flannel over his white shirt that you're pretty sure he's had since high school. Something about it takes you back in time.
You grab coffee and donuts and take a walk around the park. The sun is out, the spring flowers are finally showing their petals, and the world feels calm. You talk and talk about anything and everything. He tells you how his Ma and Pa are doing on the farm and you tell him about the latest interviews and articles you're working on. It's nice. You almost completely forget about the last few days. It feels normal and comfortable.
After a few hours in the fresh air, you sense rain starting to head your way. So, you head back to your apartment, Clark holding his flannel over your head as the heavens suddenly open up. You stumble into your apartment, laughing at how soaked you are. It's only once you're fully inside that you realise Clark's white shirt is fully soaked, and clinging to every muscle of his torso. Thankfully, he's too preoccupied with wringing his flannel out over the sink to realise you're staring. You've see him like this before. You've been swimming together in the creek between your homes practically all your lives. You've seen him take his shirt off when he's doing farm work in the middle of summer. But why does this make your heart skip a beat? Maybe it's because it's starting to feel less like a friendship, it feels so much more important than that.
You look away quickly before he notices.
"Let me grab you a towel. And maybe my hairdryer for your shirt," you say, trying to hide the burning sensation across your face. You grab them and place them next to the sink for him, trying to not look too hard. You run into your room to get changed out of your slightly less drenched clothes. You peak through the crack in the door before you open it. He's completely shirtless, blasting the hairdryer on his shirt. You decide to stay in your room a little while longer, otherwise you risk your brain completely shutting down and spluttering 'I think I love you'.
Wait, shit. Maybe you do love him.
Either way, you stay in your room until the coast is clear. His shirt is now back to dry, his flannel hanging on the heater. His damp curls have sprung up, spilling over his forehead. His glasses are discarded on the kitchen counter. It's like looking at a piece of art. You can't deny the feelings you've realised, but you have to ignore them. Do you really want to ruin your friendship?
By the time you get over to him, he's hanging up the phone, having already ordered the takeout, and heads over to find the TV remote. You sit and eat in silence, watching whatever trashy show he chose, one of the Real Housewives of wherever.
You don't even notice yourself drifting closer and closer to him, until the last episode of the season finishes and silence fills the room.
"Wow, who could've predicted that ending? She's still rich and lives in a mansion? What an unexpected twist," he jokes. His head turns and his smile turns into something different when he notices the lack of space between you two. His eyes lock with yours before falling to your lips. You notice, and you can't fight what you're feeling right now. It's like you're being pulled together by magnets. You can't stop. You both instinctively lean in, lips almost meeting.
Then you remember yourself. He's your best friend. Why have you put him in this position? He's been trying to make you feel better all day, is that why he's leaning in for a kiss? You spring up.
"Wow, look at the time. It's getting late," you say. He looks at you with confused eyes, your name quietly escaping his lips, pleading you to stay.
"I should head to bed. Thanks for staying with me today. I appreciated it. Show yourself out when you're ready," you say, before fleeing to your bedroom.
You listen through the door. Clark's feet shuffle across the floorboards, before you hear the front door close gently with a click.
Did that really just happen? You've been trying to not complicate this, but it seems like it's just got complicated all by itself.
"Ok, let me check if I've got this right," Jimmy says. "You took her home after her now-ex-fiancé openly admitted to cheating and she broke it off with him, then you tucked her into bed, stayed overnight on her couch to ease her anxiety, then you stayed with her the whole day, trying to make her happy and then you almost kiss? Dude, you have to tell her now. That's like next level relationship stuff right there, there's no way she doesn't feel the same."
It's Thursday morning. Perry practically made you take two days off, paid, because he felt so terrible about the whole gala fiasco. You're not complaining, although you were looking forward to seeing Clark. And getting back to work, but honestly, Clark's the main reason. But after the almost-kiss, you're unsure where you stand. He thinks he came on too strongly, taking advantage of you in a vulnerable state. You think you forced him into that position, would he say no if you hadn't had such a rough week?
"She literally just broke it off with Steve. She was with him for years, there's no way she all of a sudden feels that way," Clark says.
"Maybe it wasn't all of a sudden. I mean, c'mon Clark. Everyone knows young love doesn't just disappear. You two were practically committed to each other since middle school. Maybe she settled for the first man who showed her even an ounce of the love you do because she didn't want to risk losing you if she told you how she felt," Jimmy says. "But what do I know, huh?"
His words resonate with Clark. Maybe he should tell you. At this point, it's killing him to see you not understanding your worth. At least if he tells you, even if you don't feel the same way, you'll know someone loves you unconditionally.
"Ok, fine. If, and I mean if, an opportunity presents itself in the next 48 hours, I'll tell her. But if not, then clearly it wasn't meant to be. Are you satisfied now, Jimmy?" Clark says.
"Very much so. Oh, and give me some warning when you inevitably spill all your deepest thoughts and feelings to her, I need some time to make the popcorn," Jimmy jokes. He turns back to face his desk before he can see Clark's less-than-impressed facial expression. His face quickly turns back to his usual happy self when he sees you walking towards the break room with a pep back in your step.
You both want to try to be as normal as possible. Ignore the giant kiss-sized elephant in the room. He walks over to meet you.
"Hey, someone looks happy," he says, leaning against the door frame, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Hey, you know that CEO from the housing development company that no one could bag an interview with?" you say. He nods. "Well, guess who just came back from their headquarters with a 30-minute sit-down interview with him?" A smile beams across your face.
"No way, you got it? No one could track that guy down, that's amazing," he says. He walks over and gives you a massive hug. It goes on for a second longer than what's considered normal for friendly colleagues. Clark eventually remembers himself, lets go and gives you an awkward high five instead. The weird tension you've both been trying to avoid post-almost-kiss is palpable.
At some point, Jimmy managed to sneak into the break room without either of you noticing. He's pretending to make a coffee, very slowly.
"Hey, Jimmy," you say. He turns to say hello.
"Hey, you two, just grabbing a coffee before Lois steals all the sugar for her... potion of energy? It feels wrong to call whatever that is a 'coffee'. Anyway, you got plans tonight? You should celebrate getting that interview," he says, not so slyly raising his eyebrow to Clark. You turn back to face Clark.
"Oh that reminds me, actually, are you free tonight?" you ask Clark. His eyes widen. Unbeknownst to you, you're potentially backing him into a corner to confess his feelings. Unbeknownst to him, you haven't been able to stop thinking about him.
"I don't think so, why?" he says, trying to play it cool.
"They're doing a rerun of the Mighty Crabjoys 1999 Hollywood concert. If you're free you could come over and watch it? I can make dinner so you don't have to cook?" you say. You're kinda worried he'll say no, given how much time you've spent together over the last week, but equally, you'll find any excuse to spend time with him.
"You know I can't say no to the Mighty Crabjoys. Why don't you come over to mine instead? I've got all the stuff to make that pasta you like," he says. If this is his chance to say something, or if it'll potentially ruin your friendship, he at least wants to make sure you still have a good evening.
"Sounds like a plan. I'll come over 6:30 ish," you say, walking out of the break room. Jimmy pauses for a second before saying anything.
"Well, looks like you won't need to wait 48 hours," Jimmy says, patting Clark on the back.
"I'm so screwed," Clark says.
It's 4:39. 21 minutes until work ends. You're planning to run home and freshen up before you head to Clark's. You've got an outfit planned and everything. At this point, you've accepted you feel something beyond friendship for him. You're not gonna let it get in the way of your friendship, you'd never want to ruin that, but it doesn't mean you can't dress up a bit to see him.
You've finished all your work already so you're sat at your desk, twiddling your thumbs trying to look busy until 5. A sudden loud crash and shouting coming from Perry's office. The door flies open, and out comes Steve.
Your eyes widen in shock. You'd virtually forgotten about him already, it's strange how quickly you move on when you've put up with the bare minimum for years, and when you have someone like Clark helping you through it. But now, you're face to face with everything again. And he's coming over to you, waving a piece of paper.
Clark instinctively moves towards you, standing close enough to intervene, but not close enough to be obvious.
"Just got handed my last pay check, thanks to you. This is your fault. You're gonna march your sorry ass into that office, and tell Perry to give me my job back," Steve says, pointing his finger in your face. You see Perry grab the office phone, hopefully to dial security.
You freeze. He's in your face, shouting. You feel like you're back to square one, feeling like you deserve this. Like this is your fault.
"Did you hear me?" he shouts again. "This is your mess, you fix it, or I swear to god I'll-"
Before he can finish his sentence, Clark's stood between you two.
"That sounds like a threat. I don't think spending time with the cops will earn you any brownie points with Perry," Clark says.
"Give over, Kent. What are you gonna do? Call your buddy Superman? This is between me and her, this isn't any of your business," Steve says, venom spewing from his lips.
"You're right, it isn't my business. But by the looks of it, you have about 20 seconds before security drags you out of the building. So if you want to maintain the last shred of dignity you have, I'd suggest you leave now," Clark say. His tone is firm but he never raises his voice. He steps closer, towering over Steve. Steve opens his mouth to rebuke, but knows Clark is right. He stares daggers at you, before turning and leaving, brushing off security as he does so.
Perry walks over, and places a hand on your shoulder. You hear him say something about security protection and how he'll personally see to it that you're able to feel safe at work. But you don't catch it all. You feel numb. He's bullied you straight back to where you were before. And you feel like you deserve it. If you'd sucked it up, no one would be in this position. You wouldn't have gotten him fired, and you wouldn't have put Clark in an uncomfortable position. You manage to hear Perry say one thing when you pull yourself out of your daze.
"Take her home, Kent. Make sure she's ok," Perry says.
Clark doesn't say a word. He helps you into your coat, grabs his and your bags, and walks you out of the building. He keeps his hand hovered close to your back, not touching, but close enough for him to act if worst comes to worst. Once you're in the car and the doors lock, you hear him exhale gently, like he's relieved nothing else came of the situation.
"Clark, can we go straight to your apartment?" you say quietly.
"You sure?" he says, with a surprised look on his face. "We can cancel tonight if you want."
"No, I'm not letting him ruin our plans, he's ruined enough already," you say. Clark nods and pulls out of the parking lot. The drive to his place is silent. You're not sure how you feel. You were scared shitless when he came towards you, but you're not upset about it. You're more frustrated that you've put it up with it until now. And you're determined to not let it stop you from living your life.
You finally reach his apartment. You kick your shoes off and plop yourself down on his couch. He follows behind you.
"Are you ok?" he says. "You don't have to tell me anything, but, gosh, that was horrible, I'm sorry he did that to you."
"I'm all good, honestly," you say. He looks at you, puzzled and unconvinced. "I'm serious, sure it was kinda scary to have him up in my face, but I'm not upset," you say, smiling at him. His shoulders drop when he realises you're being truthful and not trying to put on a brave face. He doesn't realise that what you're frustrated about is how you can't find a guy like him.
"Good, I'm glad," he says, smiling back at you before slapping his knees and getting up. "Pasta still sounds good to you?"
You smile and nod. You help him prep dinner, working side by side. Comfortable conversation flows as you chop the ingredients and Clark stirs the sauce. It feels normal, like you could come home to this every night. Easy, safe. Maybe that's why you don't feel so bad about the whole Steve fiasco. Why would you feel so bad about losing Steve when you have Clark? Even though you're sure what you have is just friendship, and you wish you could tell him you want more, you're happy with it as it is. It's enough for you.
You sit and eat, continuing polite conversation, letting the Might Crabjoys play faintly on the TV behind you. When you finish up, you sit at the counter and Clark washes the dishes. It's like torture biting your tongue. You both wish this is how it could always be. Eventually, you make your way to the sofa.
"I don't mean to pry, but you said you weren't upset about what happened today. I know you probably want to forget all about it, but are you definitely ok? I promise I'll drop it after this but I just wanna make sure you're not bottling it all up," he says.
"I promise, I'm not upset. It's given me some clarity, actually. I don't know why I put up with that for so long," you say. Hearing you being so certain that you deserve better ignites something in Clark, a desire to tell you everything that he's trying hard to suppress.
"Good, because you deserve better. You deserve someone who loves you. Actually loves you," he says, trying to keep his tone casual but eyes saying something different. You catch the subtleties in what he's saying. Is he implying something?
"You're right. I mean, we both know I've never had great luck with guys," you say.
"I know, I was there during Derek, and Liam," he says, eyes comically wide like he's remembering a sour memory.
"Don't forget Jake, he was a real doozy," you laugh.
"Gosh, don't remind me," he says. You laugh together. But then your face drops.
"It's just so frustrating, you know? Like what am I missing?" you say, finally letting out your frustrations. Clark knows this might be his only chance to tell you how he feels, but he can't just say it outright.
"Sounds to me like you're missing someone who actually knows you and appreciates who you are," he says, subconsciously leaning towards you.
"But what am I missing? The common denominator in all my failed relationships is me. Am I really so difficult to put up with? I know I said this has given me some clarity but why does it keep happening?" you say.
"It's not anything to do with you-" he tries to say before you cut him off.
"Then why does it feel like I deserve this?" you say, raising your voice in frustration and standing up to pace.
"You don't. Why would you think that?" he says, getting up to stand with you.
"Because every man who has ever claimed to love me has made me feel like shit. I don't know what any other kind of love feels like," you say. Clark tries to interrupt, but you won't listen. You just continue to spiral. "Maybe that kind of love is all I deserve. Maybe I won't find someone who will treat me 'right.' "
"You will," he says, raising his voice desperately. "I know you will. Anyone who would pass you up is a complete idiot. You'll find someone who will love you exactly as you are." He moves closer. You haven't even picked up on his body language in your spiral. His eyes are pleading with you to just notice him. He's here, he'll treat you right.
"You don't know that," you say.
"Yes I do," he responds firmly.
"How do you know that?" you respond, throwing your arms in the air in frustration.
"Because I love you," he shouts.
His eyes go wide, the weight of his words sinking in. He opens his mouth, as if he wants to take it all back, but decides not to. You freeze, unsure if you misheard him.
"What?" you whisper.
"Darn it, I love you. I've loved you practically since we were kids. There's no denying it, and I'm sorry if that makes things weird between us now, but I can't stand here and listen to you believe that you're not worthy of being loved. Because I love you," he says, closing the gap between you.
He takes your hands. "You know when you asked me what I said to Steve to make him leave the gala? I told him I love you, and that I wouldn't let him treat you like that. I love you exactly as you are, and I've loved you enough to stay out of the way because I thought that was what would make you happiest. And I would be perfectly ok staying your best friend if you were being treated and loved the way you deserve. But you're not, I see that now. You deserve the earth, moon and stars. I want to give you that. I just want you to see me, I'm right here."
"Clark," you say softly, his name barely audible under your breath. You can't believe this is happening. You had no idea what was right in front of you until it's practically slapped you in the face.
"It's fine if you don't feel the same, but I couldn't not tell you," he says, his voice quieter now. His face is frozen in anticipation, waiting for you to walk out and never speak to him again.
But instead, you lean up and cup his face with your hand, taking his glasses off with the other. His eyes search yours, trying to figure out what you're feeling. He hears your heart beating fast, but can't tell if that's a good thing. You lean in close and tilt your head up to meet his.
Until your lips meet.
You feel the initial hesitancy in his kiss, like he's deciphering if this is actually happening. After a second, his shoulders drop, and he leans in. His hands find your cheeks as his lips press harder and harder into yours. You didn't realise how long he's been waiting for this, and how long you'd been missing out.
Suddenly, you're hoisted into the air, wrapping your legs around his waist. He kisses you feverishly, across your lips and down your neck. When he eventually pulls away, his cheeks are pink and his curls are strewn across his forehead.
"I love you, Clark. I always have," you say. "I just never thought I could have you. But I love you. Ever since you let me ride your bike, ever since you spilled a whole chilli dog down my shirt at the fair in freshman year, ever since I had to live without you in senior year in college, I've loved you. I can't breathe without you."
He looks at you with watery eyes, and a dorky smile on his face.
"You mean it? Don't feel like I'm trying to pressure you into anything, I just-" he says before you cut him off. He gently places you back on your feet.
"You love me. You love me in the way I've always been looking for. And I'm sorry I didn't see that until now. But I'm here. And I want this. I want you," you say.
"You really want to do this?" he says. You nod. "Sweetheart, you have no idea how long I've waited for this." He pulls you in tightly to his chest. Your arms swing around him. You stand in each other's arms quietly for a moment, just taking it in.
"Just wait until you call your Ma," you joke, breaking the silence.
"Oh, you have no idea. She's got a bet with Pa that we'll be married before we're 30," he laughs.
You never expected that you could ever be more than happy enough. You definitely never expected that Clark would be what you were looking for all along, just under your nose, but you're glad it's him. It could never be anyone but him.
Had to deal with a rude guy on the plane today who shoved me so he could get off the plane even tho everyone knows it’s row by row (I was in front of him) and I didn’t say anything to him bc he was buff and I just started imagining Clark x fem!reader and how he wouldn’t let that slide if it happened to reader
Ladies First
Clark always makes sure you're in front of him; protected, where he can see you. But when you get shoved on the plane, your usually mild mannered boyfriend won't stand for it.
Warnings/tags: established relationship, protective!clark, clark is a plane nerd, aggressive jerk man (?), swearing
Writer's note: thanks for the suggestion! so sorry this happened, people can be so rude on planes (funny story, i once had an full cup of orange juice spilled on me because the guy in front reclined all the way back with full force, lol) this is my first fic for a while so i'm a bit rusty, hope you still enjoy!
Word count: 1.5k
Masterlist here
You always found it funny how insistent Clark is about travelling by plane for vacations. It's true that there's really no other to get far away enough from the city, unless you want to be stuck in the infamous Metropolis traffic for hours on end, but he's always seemed to love it.
Theres something about irony of the Kyrptonian man of steel, who could get to your destination in half the time any plane could, loving a good long haul flight. Maybe it's from his Pa; he's mentioned fond memories of him and Jonathan laying in the Smallville fields, looking up at the sky and counting how many birds and planes fly past.
Or maybe it's from how much time he spends in the air. He swears the FlightRadar app on his phone is purely for safety reasons; he needs to know what might be in his path when he's flying to the Fortress. But you often catch him staring out your bedroom window, phone in hand, muttering "that's a Boeing 737" to himself. Either way, he'll find any reason to get on an aircraft.
This time, Clark had organised the whole vacation solo. You have no clue where you were going or what you were doing until you got to the airport. Clark even packed your clothes for you so you wouldn't get any clues.
Once you got to the airport, he finally let it slip; you're going to Paris. You'd always wanted to experience the food, the art, the culture, and practice your French. Plus an 8 hour flight wasn't exactly a downside in Clark's eyes. He was excited to experience what flying such a far distance is like for most people.
The first few hours of the flight were spent watching Clark scarf down the airplane food, scroll through the entertainment system, and him holding your hand as you hit pockets of turbulence. The one thing he'd underestimated was just how tired he'd be. Clark is basically immune to jet lag, lucky man, but he didn't even try to catch a wink, he wanted to enjoy the full experience. You tried to get comfortable, but an economy seat on a long haul flight isn't exactly anyone's preference.
Finally, you touch down on the tarmac. It's already daylight again when you arrive, like you've skipped the entire night. You both feel groggy, delirious, and can only think about the hotel bed that awaits you.
You've lucked out with your seats. Sure they're just regular economy, but they're right at the front of the section. At least you won't be at the back of the customs line.
The seatbelt sign turns off and Clark gets up to grab the bags overhead. You gather your smaller items together and wait patiently behind Clark for the cabin doors to open and the line to start moving.
He tries to usher you in front of him but with everyone's suitcases strewn about, there's no room. Clark always likes to see where you are. It's not an overprotective thing, he just wants to protect you. Given how huge he is, he knows how easy it is to get lost behind him. So he'll always make sure you're walking in front. Unfortunately, he'll have to wait this time.
He settles for checking back every few seconds to make sure you're still ok. No doubt, as soon as you're off the plane he'll guide you in front of him again.
Finally, you hear the shuffling of feet towards the front of the plane and see people staying starting to move. You and Clark are already in the aisle with only one or two people between you and the divider to the next cabin. You're perfect situated for an easy departure from the plane.
Clark starts to move, not before checking you're still behind him, and begins following the line out of the plane. He's wheeling the suitcases behind him but you're staying as close as possible.
You begin to take a step to follow him when you feel a sharp pain on your foot and feel yourself falling onto one of the seats. You look up and see man, no taller than yourself, standing where you were moments ago. He's pulling his bags out of the row behind where you and Clark had been sitting, completely oblivious to what's just happened. You turn and see Clark a few paces ahead, and get back up to try and follow behind.
You're almost completely blocked in by his bags and general lack of space. You're not one for confrontation but this is insane.
"Excuse me," you say. "Would you mind letting me past? You kind of pushed me out the way and I need to follow my boyfriend."
He ignores you and carries on unloading his various bags into the aisle, holding everyone up.
"Excuse me, sir. Please let me past," you say, slightly more stern.
"Geez, lady. Give me a second. Patience is a virtue, you know?" he says, with a scowl.
You try to step over his bags to get past, when he throws one of his bags onto the floor, trapping your foot with it. It's heavy. Your already stood-on foot hurts even worse now. You're pissed.
You can't help but yelp in pain. Of course, the man still ignores you. You're tired, in pain, and desperate to just get off the plane. So you try to gently move the bags out of the aisle, just enough to squeeze past.
He sees what you're doing and immediately shoves the bags back, blocking you into the row again.
"I said, you can wait," he says, raising his voice. People are staring.
A flight attendant starts walking over.
"Sir, please don't hold up the line. If you need assistance we're more than happy to help," she says, looking at you and starting to move the bags.
"No," he snaps. "I'm almost done. She can wait."
You hate confrontation and you're slightly intimidated by him now. So you resign yourself to staying in the row until he gets his bags and leaves. The flight attendant is equally defeated from a long flight and simply turns and leaves. You accept the fact that you're gonna have to navigate your way back to Clark once you're off the plane, and just hope he's waiting on the jet bridge.
Until you see him coming down the aisle. Clark pushes the man's bags back into his row, grabs your hand and pulls you into the aisle. He ushers you forward into the gap between the seats and the bathrooms.
"What the fuck?" the man shouts, staring at his bags. "Where do you get off on touching my stuff."
"Apologise to her," Clark says, arms folded. His voice is low; he doesn't need to shout to be intimidating. He towers over the man, in both height and stature. The confidence starts to drain from the man's face.
"I don't have anything to apologise for. It's not my fault she has no patience," he says.
"You shoved her, crushed her foot twice, and yelled at her for just trying to get past. Clearly it's not her that has no patience," Clark says. He's scarily calm.
He picks up the rest of the bags blocking the aisle and places them back in the row, allowing people to start walking past. The man freaks out on Clark.
"You can't just touch my stuff, I have every right to take my time. Just because your girlfriend feels like being a bitch doesn't mean she's any more important than me," the man says. He sounds more like a petulant child than a grown man.
Clark says nothing. He's clearly registered that it's no use arguing with this guy. He wants nothing more than to say something to this guy; no one calls his girlfriend a bitch. You can see the restraint on his face.
Instead he turns to you, grabs the bags you're holding, and ushers you to start walking off the plane. He doesn't take his eyes off you the whole time you're walking.
He tells you to wait on the jet bridge while he talks to the flight attendant. You hear him explain everything along with a few midwestern apologies thrown in there. He returns from the plane, grabs your hand and continues down the jet bridge, making sure you're still in sight the whole time.
Once you're finally in the airport, you see his him relax.
"Are you ok, baby? I'm sorry you were behind me, I was already stuck near the front of the plane by the time I heard what was going down," he say, hand on your cheek. "Is your foot ok?"
"I'm fine, foot's a bit sore but I'm unscathed otherwise," you joke. "What a jerk though. But honestly I'm so tired I'm only thinking about that bed at the hotel."
He laughs. He grabs your waist and ushers you forward towards the customs line.
The rest of the vacation, he doesn't let you walk behind him even once. And when you land back home, he grips your hand tightly as you're getting off the plane, not letting you get cut off from him again.
Can you write for Clark x reader the trope of someone getting drunk and not recognizing their partner + the whole "get away from me wench I have a partner" but reader is the one who is drunk and poor Clark is trying to take them home.
Hands off (Drabble)
Clark tries to take you home after a night out with the Daily Planet girls, but in your drunken haze, you don't recognise him.
Warnings/tags: alcohol consumption, drunk, Clark takes care of you
Masterlist here
Cat and Lois had finally convinced you to join them on a night out. You'd never been one to drink much, and bars aren't really your scene, but this time practically the whole office was heading to the local bar. It'd been so long since you and the girls had properly hung out together, it'd be rude to say no.
Plus with Clark there, you felt safe to let loose and have a drink or two, knowing your kryptonian boyfriend would be sober no matter how much he drank.
So after a drink or two.... or four.... and a round of shots, it's safe to say you're pretty wasted. Clark, being the protective but respectful boyfriend he is, has kept a comfortable distance all night. Close enough to keep an eye on you but no so close that you feel suffocated. But at this point, he was ready to step in.
Lois and Cat can handle their drink much better than you can, although at this point they're beyond tipsy, but nowhere near your level. Your head feels dizzy, your vision is blurring and you feel all disorientated. They've headed home by now, leaving Clark to take you with him and nurse you back to sobriety.
A glass of water appears before you. You drink it all but makes little difference. Eventually your vision focuses enough to see the hand the glass is attached to. A guy, a cute guy. But you have a boyfriend (who, unbeknownst to you, is the cute guy in front of you).
The conversation goes something like this:
"Ok darlin' that's enough for you. Let's get you home before you empty your stomach," Clark says.
"Oh, no thank you sir. I have a boyfriend," you say sternly, brows furrowed at the 'stranger before you'.
"Honey, it's me. Clark," he says, choking back laughter.
"No means no, mister. Thank you for the drink but I'm not interested," you say, leaning away from him.
He pauses. He knows how stubborn you are, and in your drunken state, there's no way you'll be coming with him of your own free will. So he decides to be smart about it.
"I'm sorry, madam. I must've mistaken you for someone else. How about I buy you a drink to make up for it, then I'll leave you be?" he says, brow cocked in amusement.
You pout and narrow your eyes, scoping out the man in front of you. Even with the copious amounts of alcohol in your system, you can tell he's not the creep kind.
"I suppose that would be ok," you say, still giving him the side eye.
He orders a martini, but mouths 'water' to the bartender when you're turned away. You down your drink in one go, unaware of Clark's plan.
After a minute of the water settling in your stomach, your haze begins to clear. You're still incredibly drunk but at least you now recognise the man in front of you.
"Clark!" you say, drunkenly throwing your arms around him. "Where have you been? This guy tried to take me home with him. I said no but he ordered me a drink, let me tell you this was the crappiest martini I've ever had."
"Really? That guy sounds like a real piece of work, why don't we head home and you can tell me all about it?" he says, the smug tone of his voice going completely over your head.
You grab his hand, swinging it with yours, like two kids on the playground, as you walk through the doors to head home.
You wake up the next morning with the worst hangover of your life. Of course, Clark is there to nurse you back to health, and to tell you the story of your temporary 'boyfriend blindness' last night.
OMG I’m such a big fan and I love that you’re asking for requests. Maybe one where reader goes to the daily planet to surprise someone (like jimmy?) as they are friends and Clark sees them and just knows that they are the one and begs (jimmy?) to invite them over again so he can try to ask her out. Idk???????
Friend of a Friend
You and Lois have been friends since college, but when Clark sees you when you come to visit the Daily Planet, you're both desperate to meet each other
Warnings/tags: fluff, early romance, awkward!clark, eventually flirty!clark, kiss, mutual pining and admiration, Lois and Jimmy scheme to get you together
Word count: 4.1k
Writer's note: thanks for the suggestion! I changed the plot slightly to be Lois' friend and both Clark and reader having some prior knowledge of each other but never met, hope you still enjoy :)
Masterlist here
It's been a while since you've seen Lois. You roomed together in college and both majored in Journalism, so you quickly became fast friends. Other people in the class didn't understand your friendship; you were both so competitive and driven to be the first to get a good story that it didn't make sense for you to be friends. But you both admired each other's strengths, helped each other work on weaknesses, and looked over each other's stories.
It also helped knowing that Lois had dreams of being a big city reporter. She thrived in the hustle and bustle, whereas you had preferred working for independent outlets and freelancing so you could be closer to home.
But in the years since college, you'd found it harder to stay in touch regularly. Instead, you'd found a rhythm of texting every week or so about each other's latest articles. You loved reading Lois' coverage of real-world issues in the big city, and she loved how grounded and personal your stories were. Eventually, you got curious about the other journalists at the Daily Planet and stumbled across Clark Kent. His coverage of Superman completely fascinated you, and he quickly became a journalist you looked up to. You'd text Lois about her articles, but you started asking about Clark.
It almost became like a silly celebrity crush; you had no idea what he looked like or anything about him, really, besides that he was a damn good writer. She would make fun of you for your fan girling, texting "he's cute, you'd like him ;)". The Clark she knew was just the oversized dork that sat across from her every day, so she took joy in hearing you gush about his writing. She subtly dropped your name to Clark at work, sending him articles of yours that tugged on his farmboy heartstrings. He started asking more about you, and read every one of your articles. Lois didn't tell either of you about your mutual admiration; instead, she just waited until the day you two could meet, which came a lot sooner than she anticipated.
You finally reach the Daily Planet after almost an hour of wandering lost through the streets of Metropolis, with Google Maps as a useless companion. You had to miss Lois' birthday this year, so to make it up to her, you wanted to surprise her. Plus, you'd been considering a change of pace from small-town journalism, and thought Metropolis might be a good starting point to scope out. So here you are, in the big city with her favourite cake in hand.
You walk up to the reception desk and give your name. The receptionist gives you directions to Lois' desk and buzzes you in. The bullpen is huge. You almost drop the cake three separate times, trying to avoid bumping into someone. You scan the room looking for your friend when your eyes lock on someone else. A guy.
His suit looks two sizes too big for him, but you can tell how broad he is underneath it. His dark curls frame his forehead, almost reaching down to the top of his glasses. He's super cute. And he's looking directly at you. His eyes are wide, and his cheeks are flushed with pink. You flash a shy smile, just as he remembers himself. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and refocuses his gaze on his computer. Just then, you hear a familiar voice calling your name. You turn and see your dear friend.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were working on the farmer's strike story?" she says before getting interrupted.
"Lois, I didn't think you had friends outside of the bullpen. It's actually kinda nice seeing you act like a girl for once," a man calls out from a desk across the room.
"Shut up, Steve," she shouts back before turning her attention back to you.
"It's already live. I had a few days off and I felt so bad I couldn't come for your birthday so I thought I'd surprise you. I stopped to get that cake you like and everything," you say, holding out the cake towards here.
"Oh my god, you amazing woman. You came just in time, I'm just about to start my lunch break. I'll show you where the break room is and come and meet you in 5? I'll grab some forks on the way," she says, guiding you down the hall.
The break room is empty besides the odd person coming in to refill their coffee or grab some water. You find a seat, place the cake on the table, and wait patiently for Lois to return. You can just about see her desk from where you're sat, and you see that same cute guy you smiled at earlier chatting with her. You try not to stare, but you honestly can't help it. His eyes catch yours again as he walks back to his desk. You both flash each other a shy smile again before he sits down.
"Ok, two forks and some napkins," Lois says as she comes into the break room. "Can I grab you a coffee?"
"Your version of coffee is sugar sludge, I think I'll pass, Lo," you laugh.
"So, how long are you here for? I'd love to show you around and introduce you to everyone if you're here for long enough," she asks.
"Well, I took a few days off work, so with the weekend I'm here for just over a week. I'm staying in an apartment a few blocks away," you reply.
"That's amazing. You need to hang out with us all while you're here. But why are you here for so long? I thought you'd be itching to get back already," she says.
"I wanted to get to know the city. Truthfully, I've been looking for a change of pace and I thought where better to start looking first?" you say. You're unsure how she'd react to knowing you're thinking of moving here. You don't want to encroach on her territory, but the stories that come out of Metropolis are like nothing you've ever seen.
"Are you kidding? That would be amazing. You know, I overheard Perry talking about looking for new talent, and I think you'd be perfect. He said we need a personal touch somewhere. So how about I show you around and you get to know everyone and if you really like it here, I'll put a good word in for you?" she says enthusiastically.
"That would be incredible, Lo. You're sure you're ok with it? I mean I'd hate to encroach on your territory," you say, digging your fork into the cake.
"Of course. I'd love to have you closer. Plus our styles are so different it's not like we'd be competing like in college," she says.
You almost finish the whole cake between you and catch up about the last few months since you'd last seen each other. You glance up and see the guy again walking to the printer.
"Lo, who's that?" you ask in a hushed tone, worried he'll hear you.
"I was waiting to see if you'd ask. Who do you think that is?" she says with a smirk.
You're confused what she means. Why would you know who he is, you don't know anyone here besides her.
Wait. Shit.
"Is that Clark Kent? Like, Superman reporter Clark Kent? Oh my god I've been making eyes at him like an idiot, shit. That's Clark Kent?" you start to ramble, turning red. She starts laughing at you.
"My break is over in ten, but I could introduce you two before I walk you out?" she says with a smile.
"Oh god no, could you imagine? I've already embarrassed myself enough in front of him and I haven't even said a word to him," you say.
"C'mon, you haven't even met him. He's not this intimidating, all-knowing god of a journalist. He's the biggest, friendliest dork ever. You'd love him," she says.
"Maybe another time, Lo," you say.
"Ok fine, but at least come by my desk so you can see what it's like here. I'll let you have a sneak peek at my next article," she says. You oblige and box up the rest of her cake, putting it into the break room fridge for her to finish later. She walks you over to her desk, and you look at all the papers and her pile of coffee mugs.
You try to ignore the eyes you can feel on you as she's showing you her unfinished articles, until you feel a hand on your back. You turn and see another guy behind you.
"So, you must be the friend Lois has been talking about. Jimmy Olson, photojournalist," he says, extending a hand. You shake it and introduce yourself.
"Jimmy, if you're here to try and flirt with my friend, you should go back to your desk," Lois says without looking up from her computer screen.
"Lois, how low do you think of me? Actually, I noticed my friend over there taking a keen interest in each other, do you know him?" he asks, pointing at Clark, who swiftly looks away when he sees all of your eyes on him.
"Um, no. Sure, I've read some of his stuff but, no, we don't know each other," you say, hoping your cheeks aren't turning red again.
"Some of his stuff. She's Clark's biggest fan, she's read every article" Lois jokes.
You stare daggers at the back of her head.
"Oh really, why don't I call him over and you can meet him?" Jimmy says, about to gesture over to Clark.
"No, that's ok," you blurt out before he can finish. "I'm leaving now, but maybe another time."
"Your loss," he says before walking back to his desk.
Lois laughs and walks you back towards the entrance to the bullpen. You promise to go out with her tomorrow night after work and give her a hug. Over her shoulder, you see Jimmy, now sat at Clark's desk, pointing over towards you. Embarassment sets in and you quickly turn to leave.
"That's her?" Clark says.
"Yes indeed, my friend. She's cute. And I think you know that too," Jimmy says.
"What makes you say that?" Clark asks with a furrowed brow.
"You've been practically staring holes into her head for the last hour," Jimmy says. "You have her articles up on your screen constantly. You should make a move."
Clark had read all of your articles and became something of a fan, just as you had to him. But he didn't connect the dots that Lois' beautiful friend from out of town was the same journalist he'd been reading every day.
"Ok, I will admit, she is very beautiful. And she's certainly a darn good journalist. But she's just left, so it's not like I can do anything about it now," Clark says.
"Well, I heard she's in town for a few days. And she might be moving to Metropolis if all goes well. You could do with a cute woman 'friend', Clark" Jimmy says with a wink. Lois' ears prick up as she's walking back over towards her desk.
"Jimmy, are you still talking about my friend? You're not gonna get in her pants," Lois says, coming over to join them.
"Seriously, Lois, I'm not a pervert. Actually, Clark was just saying how cute she is, weren't you, Clark?" Jimmy says, nudging his shoulder.
"Well, not in so many words but..." Clark says awkwardly, his eyes fixated on his screen.
"She'd kill me for telling you this but she's a fan of your work, Clark. Like, a huge fan. She's read all your articles and really admires your stuff," Lois says.
"Really?" Clark asks, eyes darting up from his computer.
"Yes, you have this weird mutual admiration thing going on. It's actually pretty cute how you found each other's work. I think you'd get along with her," she says. He pauses for a moment, clearly debating if he should ask the question that's on the tip of his tongue. But he decides to go for it.
"Lois, could you introduce us? I'd really love to meet her. Do you think she'd be ok with that?" Clark asks.
"I can definitely ask her. I'll shoot her a text," Lois says.
"No, no, no." Jimmy says. "You can't just text her. How un-romantic is that?"
"Well, that wasn't exactly my intention, I just want to pick her brain about her writing-" Clark begins to say, his cheeks glowing red.
"Shut it, loverboy." Jimmy interrupts, pulling Lois away towards her desk. "Lois, c'mon you know they'll freak out if you tell them in advance. How about the four of us go out for drinks and they can just 'happen' to meet each other?"
"You might be right, for once. We have plans to go out tomorrow night, you and Clark can meet us there at 8." she says, walking back to her desk with a scheming smile on her face.
"The plan's gonna work I'm telling you," Jimmy shouts as she walks away. "Wait, what do you mean 'for once'?"
Lois sent you the address of her favourite bar and told you to be ready by 7:30. She implied that some of her work friends might be there, which of course means you're now extremely nervous. She didn't directly mention Clark, but of course you're wondering if he'll show up.
So, you put on a nice dress and do your makeup and hair; not too over the top for the bar, but just enough to make you feel confident. Lois knocks on the door exactly on time and you walk side by side down the street. You look up at the towering skyscrapers and take in the sounds of the city. You're starting to really love it and can see yourself making a life for yourself here.
"So, Lo, you said some of your work friends might come out tonight. Do you think anyone I met yesterday will make an appearance? You've got some characters in the bullpen," you say casually. You try to not make it seem like you're asking about Clark, but you and Lois both know what you're really saying. Still, she doesn't let on.
"Well, Steve is usually there. Stay away from him. He acts friendly enough at first but it's all a ploy to get in your pants. I think Jimmy said he might come down as well. He comes out most Fridays," she says, dancing around the answer she knows you really want, baiting you to directly ask.
"Noted. I like Jimmy, he seems cool. What about Clark?" you ask, again trying and failing to seem casual. Lois gives you a look.
"I'm not sure if Clark will be there. He's not a big drinker so he usually declines our invitations. But you never know, maybe Jimmy will manage to drag him out tonight," she says. There's a tone to her voice that you can't quite place. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," you lie. "Just curious." She flashes you a knowing smile as you walk into the bar.
You find a booth and slide into the seat as Lois walks up to the bar to order for you both. The bar is pretty busy, so you expect to be waiting for her a while. You sit mindlessly scrolling on your phone before you look up and see the top of a very tall man walk through the doors. The booth is obscuring his face but you have a feeling you recognise those dark curls. You panic and return to your phone, not realising you're pretending to scroll through your contacts list. You're desparately trying to go unnoticed out of sheer nervousness. If Lois was here, you wouldn't feel so panicked, but you're by yourself and completely unprepared. Just as you're trying to make yourself as invisible as possible, you hear someone calling your name. You look up and see Jimmy walking towards you, with Clark towering behind him. He's wearing a well-loved denim jacket with a red flannel shirt that perfectly shows off his toned chest. You didn't realise just how tall he is until now that he's standing in front of you.
"Hey, Lois said you might be here tonight. It's great to see you again. And what a coincidence that Clark decided to come tonight as well?" Jimmy says, voice obviously overexaggerated. You can tell something is up, and from Clark's confused expression, you can tell he can tell the same. Clark opens his mouth to say something before Jimmy interrupts.
"Well, I'm gonna head up to the bar and order. Why don't you two get to know each other?" Jimmy says, beginning to back away.
"Um, why don't I order, Jimmy. You don't know what I get here," Clark says.
"Root beer. You always get a root beer, Clark. Now sit down and get to know the nice girl," Jimmy says, attempting to force Clark down by his shoulders. Clark gives in and sits down. He shoots Jimmy a look, only to be met with a smug smile. You shoot a similar look over to Lois, who is pulling the same exact face. She gives you a wink before turning to talk to Jimmy.
An awkward silence hangs in the air for a while. You're both too shy to say anything. Clark eventually opens his mouth.
"Lois didn't tell you I was coming, did she?" he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Not exactly. She said she wasn't sure who was coming tonight," you respond, struggling to keep eye contact.
"Golly, now I'm embarrassed," he says, gulping awkwardly.
"Why would you be embarrassed?" you ask.
"Well, I think Jimmy and Lois have been scheming," he responds with a laugh.
"I figured as much," you laugh back. "I'm not exactly sure why, though."
"It's my fault. This is slightly embarrassing to admit in front of you but I'm a huge fan of your work," he says, a light blush spreading across his face.
You're shocked. Clark Kent has read your stuff?
"So when you came to visit the Daily Planet, I thought I recognised you from somewhere, and when Lois told me who you were, I asked her to introduce us. But it seems as though she didn't text you to ask first, like she said she would. I'm sorry they sprang this on you but I'd love to talk to you about your work. That story you published the other week about the farmer's strike was just incredible," he says.
"You've read my articles?" you ask shyly.
"Gosh, I've read them all. There's something I can't quite describe in all of your work. You have a way of making niche topics seem so personal. I've learned a ton from your work that I never would have otherwise," he says.
"That means a lot coming from you. I mean, your Superman stories are incredible. I see why he trusts you as his go-to journalist," you gush.
"Why, thank you," he says, his southern twang coming out. "Lois mentioned you'd read some of my work. I have to say I was flattered. Seems like we're both fans of each other."
Usually, you'd be annoyed at Lois for telling him how big a fan you are, but on this occasion, you feel like you should be thanking her.
You and Clark get to chatting. You share your writing processes and stories from interviews. Clark tells you about his Ma and Pa back home in Kansas and how important the farmers' strike was to them. Neither of you notices that Jimmy and Lois still haven't returned to the table. You chat for hours before you check your phone and see a message from Lois.
Lois - Seems like you two are getting along well ;) me and Jimmy are gonna call it a night and leave you two be. Text me when you're at the apartment x
"I think they've ditched us," you laugh.
"What time is it? I didn't realise how long we'd been talking," he says.
You check the time. It's almost 11 now.
"I should be heading back soon. Lois was planning to take me around the city tomorrow. I'm thinking of moving here so she wants to help me get a feel for life here," you say.
"That would be amazing. If you don't already have a job lined up I'll definitely send Perry some of your stuff. We'd be lucky to have you," he says with a smile. You flash him a shy smile back. You've really enjoyed getting to know him and don't want the evening to end.
"Why don't I walk you back to where you're staying. Google maps is never reliable in this city," he says. You agree and exit the bar with him.
You walk side by side, slowly, like neither of you wants the night to draw to a close. A comfortable silence hangs in the air. The city looks beautiful at night, and Clark can't help but look at you taking in the sights.
"You look beautiful," he says softly. He doesn't realise the words have left his mouth until it's too late.
"Golly, I'm sorry, that was very forward. We've only just met and I'm coming on too strong," he says, cupping his hand over his face.
"Thank you, Clark. You look handsome too," you reply shyly. Goosebumps start to form on your arms. You didn't anticipate how chilly it would get in the evenings here, so you didn't think to bring a jacket. You let out a quiet shiver.
Without a word, Clark takes off his jacket and places it around your shoulders.
"I'm ok, Clark, you don't need to-" you begin to say.
"A pretty girl like you shouldn't have to be cold. We've still got a few blocks to walk, I want you to be warm," he says with a confidence starting to grow. You lock eyes with him. You want to kiss him; he's so sweet and gentlemanly, not to mention he's gorgeous. Instead, you thank him and continue your walk.
You both begin to drift closer together as you walk, your hands gently bumping together, wanting to embrace but being unsure. Eventually, Clark interlocks his pinkie with yours and looks at you, making sure it's ok. You can tell he doesn't want to rush this. You've only just met but it feels like you've known each other for months. In a way you've gotten to know each other through your writing. You flash him a smile and interlock his hand with yours.
You continue like this, chatting about everything, until you reach your apartment.
"I had fun tonight," you say, reluctantly dropping his hand as you reach
"You know, I know this city even better than Lois does. She's always so busy working she doesn't get to experience the city like I do. I can ask her if maybe I can be your tour guide tomorrow? That is, if it's ok with you?" he asks, picking up your hands again. You nod.
"I think you fit in here. I hope you do decide to move. I'd love to get to know you more. And if you don't, then you've at least got a new pen pal out of it," he says with a shy smile, his dimples framing his face.
A beat of silence hangs in the air. You both stare into each other's eyes, holding onto the last few moments of your night together. A sudden confidence bubbles in your chest. You cup your hands to his face, stand on the tips of your toes and place a kiss to his lips.
You pull away, unsure of how he'll react. He looks at you, shocked, before a smile creeps across his lips and he leans down to kiss you again. The kiss is delicate. He holds your waist like you're a delicate glass ornament he's scared to break. Eventually you break away, both of you with grins on your faces.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Clark," you say, heading into the apartment and closing the door.
You stand in the doorway in complete shock. The Clark Kent is a fan of you. And he's an amazing kisser. His jacket is still hanging around your shoulders. It smells like wood and fresh linen. It smells like him.
You pick up the phone and text Lois.
You - Lo, I need to move here, looking for apartments asap.
Lois - You're welcome ;)
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Your totally adorable tutor, Clark, helps you get through finals.
Tags/content warnings: fluff, college romance, slow(ish) burn romance, nerdy jock Clark, finals, swearing, Christmas romance, Clark x Female Reader
Word count: 3.6k
Writer's note: thanks for the anonymous suggestion!!! also i'm english so please excuse any inconsistencies with american college life lol, idk how similar it is to uni life here
Please send any suggestions for Clark fanfics, my inbox is open :)
Masterlist here
The calendar on your wall was filling up fast, each day ticked off, reminding you finals week was approaching fast.
Your first semester of sophomore year had been a massive step up from freshman year: more assignments, higher standards, and way less free time. You'd considered giving up your role at the student paper (one of the few things keeping you sane) more often than you'd like to admit.
You'd always been a good student with straight A's, but this semester had just kicked your ass. All nighters fuelled by ramen, Skittles and whatever they had in the cafeteria at midnight wasn't cutting it anymore, and you became desperate to keep up your streak of A's.
You're sat in the campus library, simultaneously blasting a study podcast through your headphones and writing feverishly on your laptop. After a few hours, you decide to stretch your legs. You pack up your kit and head for the exit, when the bulletin board catches your eye.
Pinned on the board are various sign up sheets for sports clubs, scholastic competitions and..... an advert for a tutor. It reads:
Free Student Tutor for [Your Subject]
I'm Clark, a junior with straight A's and A+'s. Available for tutoring every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday from 4-6pm, and occasional weekends. Call the number below if interested. First come, first serve.
It was a sign, the final push you needed to ace your final exams. You add the number into your contacts and rush back to your dorm.
Your overflowing bag barely touches the floor before you press call. The phone rings twice before he picks up.
"Hello?" a deep voice says on the other side of the call.
"Hi, I'm calling about the ad in the library. I'm desparate for a tutor, I hope I'm not too late?" you reply, giving your name, still out of breath from rushing back to your room.
"Oh hi! Golly, I didn't expect to get a response so soon, I only put the poster up this morning. You're not too late at all. I'm Clark by the way, Clark Kent," he replies. You notice the country twang in his voice. Cute.
"Your name rings a bell. You also write for the student paper, right? I've read some of your stuff, it's really good. I just stick to entertainment writing and reviewing the seasonal specials in the campus cafe," you say with a giggle. You'd never properly met Clark before, but you knew from reading his articles that he was smart. Just what you needed.
"I thought you sounded familiar. I loved your latest review, what was it called? Oh, 'The Good, The Brewed and The Ugly: The Drinks You Should Order To Get Through Finals.' I thought it was brilliant," he says.
"Thanks, I was so proud of that title. Anyway, you said on the ad that you could do Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. Would tomorrow be too soon to start? I know it might be an inconvenience but I need to fit as much practice in before finals as I can," you ask, fingers crossed.
"Sure, it's no inconvenience at all," he replies. "Let's meet in the cafe at 4 tomorrow. You're a sophomore, right? I've got all the textbooks from last year still, so just bring yourself and your laptop."
"Perfect, thanks, Clark. See you tomorrow!" you say before hanging up. You sleep easily knowing you've got a great tutor in the bag.
Your 8am alarm jolts you from a deep sleep, the first you've had in weeks. You go to your classes, finish your essay and sit in your dorm, waiting for 4pm.
With your laptop, notebook and pens packed away in your backpack, you get ready to head down to the cafe. Just as you're about to open the door, your phone buzzes. You check the message:
Clark - Got us a table in the corner of the cafe. It's super quiet, perfect for studying. See you soon :)
You get to the cafe exactly on time and decide to set your things down at the table before ordering a drink. You walk towards the corner of the cafe and see Clark. You stop dead in your tracks.
Even sitting down, you can tell just how tall he is, and the varsity jacket he's wearing does little to disguise his broad chest and shoulders - not the kind of guy you'd think would have 'golly' in his day-to-day vocabulary. He's typing on his laptop, which looks more like a mini iPad in his massive hands, and he reaches up to brush a stray, brunette curl away from his glasses before he spots you.
Shit, he's cute, this is the last thing you need right now.
"Hey Clark," you say, setting your stuff down on the chair in front of him, trying to seem confident and hoping your face isn't turning a bright shade of red.
"Oh hey, right on time," he says smiling at you. He stands up to give you a handshake (seriously, is this dude from the 1950s?) and you're taken aback by just how tall he is. He's gotta be 6'4 at least.
"I'm just gonna grab a drink and then we can start?" you say, hoping you can regain some composure while you're waiting in line.
"No need, I got you a peppermint mocha. You said it was the best drink here in your review so I thought it'd be a safe bet. I got a hot decaf, wasn't sure how you take your coffee but I can get another if you don't like it," he says, extending a paper cup towards you. You stand there for a second looking at him, then the cup, then back at him. He's cute, dorky, jacked and bought you coffee? You're so screwed.
"That's perfect, just how I like it. Thanks, Clark," you say, taking the cup from him. Your fingers brush and you pull away before you can register the gentle touch.
"What did you get? Don't tell me it's the mulled wine refresher, it's awful. Definitely deserved to be at the very bottom of my review," you joke, trying to regain some composure.
"Haha, I remember, didn't you say cold non-alcoholic mulled wine was 'wrong on a fundamental and spiritual level'? So I took your advice and got the same as you, just iced. It's pretty amazing," he says, sitting down and taking a sip from his drink. You sit down across from him and pull out your equipment from your bag.
The next two hours are exactly as you hoped. He answers all your questions and queries and recaps the few chapters you'd been struggling with. When the session is over, you feel a million times more confident.
"Thanks, for all your help, Clark. It's all starting to make more sense. Chapter 7 has been getting on my last nerve for weeks, but I see how it works now," you say packing up your stuff.
"Glad I could help. Although I'm surprised you were looking for a tutor, you seem to be pretty advanced, especially for a sophomore," he says, genuinely puzzled.
"Actually, I'm typically a straight-A student, but this semester has just kicked my ass. I have most of the knowledge and ability, I think I just need to get my confidence up," you say.
"Well, that's what I'm here for. Are you free again Thursday? I have practice on Wednesdays, but after that I'm all yours," he says, packing his books away. His backpack must weigh a ton, but with those muscles, you're sure he can handle it.
"Sounds good to me. I noticed the jacket earlier, what do you play?," you ask.
"Lacrosse. I used to play football in high school, even got MVP a couple of times, but it was too violent for me, you know? Lacrosse is more my speed," he says. "Feel free to say no, but do you want me to walk you to your dorm? It's pretty dark outside now."
You hadn't noticed the flicker of the streetlamps coming on. Campus was pretty safe, but let's face it, who would pass up an opportunity to spend an extra 15 minutes with Clark?
"I'd appreciate that, if it's not too much trouble?" you say. He takes your backpack from your shoulders and slings it over his.
"No trouble at all," he says.
You walk back side by side in the crisp winter air. He tells you about his hometown and his ma and pa.
"Oh, so you're a farmboy?" you joke.
You chat about life back home and plans for the holidays, hoping you're not almost back at your dorm.
"Well, this is me," you say when you reach your building. "Thanks again for today, Clark, it was great to meet you. And next time coffee is on me."
He chuckles, gives you a small wave, and you walk your separate ways.
Crap, he's cute. You can't fall for your tutor, especially not this close to finals. You tell yourself you need to focus and push any developing feelings away.
You continue like this for the next 4 weeks, meeting every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. Clark always arrives ahead of time with your coffee already on the table. You try arriving early to beat him to it, but he's always there first. You offer to pay him back for coffee, but he just says, "Ma raised a gentleman, and besides, it's my treat."
He offers to meet you on weekends closer to finals, which turn into hangout sessions, rather than study sessions. You grab a coffee and walk through campus, just talking about life and getting to know each other. You swear you catch him staring at you once or twice. He gives you the confidence boost you needed, and you start getting 100% on your assignments.
And then finals week comes around.
Your alarm blares at 6am, but you're already wide awake. You start getting ready when your phone buzzes.
Clark - Hey, good luck today, you're gonna ace it. Remember, stay calm and breathe, you can do this :). Meet me outside the classroom before the exam.
You walk towards the building, headphones on, trying to calm down. You'd forgotten to eat anything in your panicked frenzy which you can tell will be a problem based on your rumbling stomach. You almost walk straight past Clark before you hear him shout your name.
"Hey, how are you, you look nervous," he says with a concerned look on his face.
"I'm super nervous but I know I can do it. I just need to get this first exam done, and then I'll feel better," you say, nervously rubbing your hands together.
"I had a feeling you'd still be nervous so I got you something," he says holding a paper cup out towards you. "You said you forget to eat when you feel nervous so I got you a peppermint hot chocolate to keep you going. I thought coffee might make the nerves worse."
"Thanks, Clark. That's just what I need," you say with a smile. You start to calm down as you're sipping your drink.
You finish your drink and throw the cup away as you hear the 5-minute warning. Clark notices your restless leg as you lean against the wall.
"Don't worry, you're gonna be fine. If you get nervous, remember everything I've said; you can do this. I'll wait for you outside when the exam is done," he says, holding your shoulders. You nod but the nervous expression doesn't fade from your face.
He pulls you into a hug. You're not sure how to react, he's caught you by surprise. You hug him back just as you hear students being ushered into the room.
"I gotta go, I'll see you after," you say, turning away before he can see you blush.
The exam goes amazingly. You manage to calm your nerves and focus.
Once it's over, you run out looking for Clark.
"How'd it go?" you hear him say from down the hall.
"It went so well, I didn't panic and I remembered everything," you say as you run towards him.
"Gosh that's amazing," he says, beaming. Without thinking, he picks you up and pulls you into another hug. He remembers himself after a second and puts you down, red in the face.
"So, um, how many do you have left now?" he says.
"Just one, I submitted my essay assignment a while back, so I'm all done after tomorrow," you say.
He walks you back to your dorm, standing a little closer than usual. You say your goodbyes and head up to take a nap. You keep replaying his embrace in your head. You'd accepted that you liked him ages ago, I mean, those dimples are enough to fall in love with alone. But is it possible he liked you back? You try to push it out of your head until your finals are done.
Your next exam goes just as well, and once again, Clark is waiting outside. You walk back to your dorm together, a comfortable silence hanging in the air. Until Clark breaks it.
"So since we're both done with our finals, I was wondering if you'd like to come to the Lacrosse holiday formal tomorrow evening? I can walk you there if you're interested," he asks coyly.
After the stress of these last few weeks, an evening out is exactly what you need.
"I'd love to, text me the information and I'll be there," you say, beginning to walk away from him so you can go and crash in your dorm, not fully registering what just happened.
"Oh, really? Amazing, I'll text you," he says, voice trailing off as you walk away.
You get up to your room, jump into bed and close your eyes. Then it hits you. Was he asking you to come with him? Like a date? No way, you'd gotten so close over these few weeks but surely you're reading to much into it.
Your phone buzzes:
Clark - Hey, here's the link to the info. Really happy you decided to come :) I'll pick you up at 7 tomorrow?
Clark - And well done again for getting through finals, I knew you could do it
As much as you wanted to believe this might be a date, you didn't want to ruin the friendship you and Clark had built over the last few weeks. You decide to not assume anything, you don't want to risk losing your friend.
The next evening rolls around fast. You'd spent all morning trying to figure out what do wear (how does 'Christmas formal' differ from normal formal anyway?) and finally started getting ready. Your hair is perfectly curled, with the front pinned back with a dark red, velvet bow. You'd pinned your mistletoe earrings on and started on your makeup when you hear the familiar buzz of a text message.
Clark - Still on for tonight? I heard the cafe is catering the formal, let's hope they've made enough peppermint mochas ;)
A wink? Does that mean something? Or has Clark just not discovered emojis yet? You tell yourself to stop reading into things, you're just friends.
You slip into your red dress, perfectly matching the bow in your hair, and put on your favourite sparkly heels. You sit, waiting until 7pm rolls around, nervous butterflies brewing in your stomach.
Clark - I'm outside, come down whenever you're ready. No rush!
You look down the spiral stairwell outside your room and see Clark waiting in the lobby below. The butterflies in your stomach refuse to quiet down. He's wearing a black suit and tie that emphasises the sheer size of his chest. As you get to the bottom of the stairs, he's reading the building's notice board, oblivious to you standing behind him. You catch a glimpse of his cufflinks - vintage looking Santa hats, probably gifted by his Pa. Seriously, could he get any more adorable?
You hesitate to tap him on the shoulder. Instead, you awkwardly clear your throat to get his attention and say, "Hey, Clark, are you ready to go?" He turns to look at you, with a smile on his face. His smile quickly turns to shock (or awe, you can't quite tell). His mouth hangs wide open, his eyes look like they might pop out and his face becomes a bright shade of red.
"Golly, um, you look fantastic. Um, that dress is gorgeous. Did you do something different with your hair?" he eventually spits out, clearly at a loss for words.
"Something like that," you giggle shyly, taken aback by his sudden shy demeanour. "I like your cufflinks."
"Thanks, my Pa gave them to me. Some kind of family heirloom," he says without taking his eyes off you. "Shall we get going?" He extends his arm out to you.
Even now you're unsure if this is a reflection of his gentlemanly upbringing, or if it's affection reserved just for you. But as you're walking, you lean into his arm and allow yourself to believe maybe it is just for you.
The formal is amazing. The hall is decorated in snowy whites, reds and greens. You walk in, arms linked together, and find a seat. Clark gets you a drink and you sit awkwardly trying to make small talk, neither one of you wanting to aknowledge the elephant in the room (aka the feelings you're both desparately trying to hide from each other). After a while, you get back into your usual rhythm of conversation. Clark forbids you from talking finals with him anymore, for fear of you second guessing yourself. Instead he distracts you with the story of the cufflinks. You feel brave and place your hands the cuffs of his jacket as he's telling the story. His speech doesn't faulter but you notice the rosy hue on the tips of his ears.
You and Clark eventually separate to socialise with your respective friends, but you notice his quick glances at you when he thinks you aren't looking. Your friends drag you to the dance floor, begging you to let loose and have fun with them after how AWOL you'd been during finals season. Eventually, the music slows, and you and your friends begin to exit the floor, until you feel a hand grabbing yours.
You look back to see Clark, gently holding your hand. "Can I steal you for a dance?" he says.
You nod, completely awestruck that this is actually happening. You look back and exchange knowing glances with your friends. They'd had a feeling your lack of communication the last few weeks wasn't entirely just down to finals. He leads you as you gently sway to the music, your hand in his and the other placed gently on your waist.
"I'm really proud of you, you know?" he says softly.
"Why's that?" you ask.
"You've become so much more confident these last few weeks. It's clear not just in your essays or tests, but even just how you talk. It makes me really happy to see," he replies earnestly.
You blush and look away. "Well, that's mostly thanks to you," you say.
"Only partly. In those exams, that was all you. You're the one who's made you feel more confident, I just gave an extra boost," he says, holding you closer. You continue to dance to the music, leaning against Clark's shoulder. You close your eyes, completely in the moment.
"I think the evening is starting to wind down. Want me to walk you back to your dorm?" he asks. You nod. You grab your clutch and walk the familiar path back to your dorm with him, arm in arm and closer together than ever before. He puts his jacket around your shoulders when he notices the cool, evening air making goosebumps on your arms. You don't want the night to end as you see your building getting closer and closer.
Just as you reach the lobby door and turn to say your usual goodbyes, he says, "Why don't I walk you to your room?". You take him by the hand and lead him into the lobby. He's slightly taken aback by your sudden confidence, but doesn't let go. You walk slowly up the spiral staircase and down the hall until you reach your room. Still holding his hand, you turn to face him.
"Well, this is me. I had fun tonight, thanks for inviting me," you say. You start to open the door to head inside, bringing the night to a close, until you hear Clark say, "Wait, look up."
Mistletoe.
Of course, the girl three doors down was obsessed with Christmas. Truthfully, you think Christmas decorating was her coping mechanism for finals week. Either way, you were indebted to her in this moment.
You look at Clark. His expression is bordering on nervous and excited, like he's been waiting for a chance like this, but is unsure if he should take it. You place your hands gently on his chest, and stand on your very tippy toes. Clark catches the hint and leans down.
He places and gentle kiss to your lips. God, this is all you'd been thinking about during those tutoring sessions, and now it's actually real. He holds the back of your waist delicately, as if you're made of spun sugar.
You both pull away and look at each other for a few seconds, unsure of what to say next.
"Well, looks like I might need to find a new tutor next semester. Pretty sure there's a rule against kissing your tutor somewhere," you joke, trying to break the ice.
He laughs and adjusts his glasses.
"I'm sure we can make an exception, " he says, his tone now confident and flirty. It catches you off guard, but Clark kisses you again before you can react.
You never thought 'cute tutor' would be on your Christmas list this year.
college!clark - who volunteers for all open house events and freshman orientation, and takes it incredibly seriously, wearing full collegiate apparel from head to toe and carrying a seemingly never-ending stack of information booklets
college!clark - who studies with you in the library and draws circles on your hand with his finger when he's focusing
college!clark - who leaves your favourite study snacks and drinks outside your door when you're too stressed with assignments to hang out
college!clark - who always walks you the longer way back to your dorm so he can spend more time with you
college!clark - who lets you practice your presentations with him and properly gets into the role of your professor, with his glasses on the tip of his nose, notebook and pen in hand
college!clark - who blows you kisses from across the field when he scores in his lacrosse tournament
college!clark - who visits home and asks his Ma to cook your favourite foods for you to keep in your fridge when you're too busy to cook
college!clark - who runs across campus to bring you a spare jacket and socks when you're soaked and unprepared for a rain storm
college!clark - who keeps your class schedule pinned on his wall next to his, with your joint free periods circled
college!clark - who offers to drive you home for winter break because he knows how scared you are of driving in the snow
college!clark - who buys you your favourite drink from the campus cafe every day and secretly switches your order to decaf when he knows you've had too many energy drinks pulling an all-nighter
college!clark - who calls his Ma and Pa every day after class and gushes about you to them
college!clark - who walks you to class every morning, even when classes don't start until the afternoon
college!clark - who manages to sweet talk his lacrosse coach into letting you watch his practice every week
college!clark - who's teammates nickname him 'country boy' due to the Kansas twang in his voice, but only likes it when you call him that
college!clark - who uses 'golly' and 'darn' in his day-to-day vocabulary, you're the only one he allows to make fun of him for it
college!clark - who is easily bribed into helping you study with copious amounts of baked goods
college!clark - who bought you a matching varsity jacket with his name on so you'd stop stealing his (you still take it, he doesn't mind)
college!clark - who stays up with you during all-nighters, even when he can't help with your studying, he sits on the bed and lets you play with his hair to help you focus
college!clark - who invites you as his date to all his Lacrosse formals, and can't take his eyes off you the whole night