steve stares at the phone in his hands in disbelief, studying the contours of clark’s face, the curve of his mouth and the glimmer in his impossibly blue eyes. he grabs his bike helmet and keys and heads to metropolis. 

tiME TO FUCK SHIT UP

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

me: wELL SHIT

steve is completely wiped after returning from his mission. the only reason he even musters enough energy to take a shower is so he can use clark’s shampoo, reminding him of the way it smells in clark’s thick curls. by the time he’s done, he nearly trips over himself in his exhaustion. still, he walks towards clark’s dresser, pulling out a pair of his boxers and sliding them over his legs. clark has left his closet door open, and steve’s heart leaps when he spots the familiar spot of red, detached from the rest of clark’s uniform. when he wraps the cape around his shoulders, the smell is so distinctively clark. he collapses on the bed, burying his face in clark’s pillow, and it’s almost like having clark wrapped around him.