clark kent had just procured you a cup of coffee.

working at the daily planet was never dull by any means, what with jimmy and lois bickering back and forth across the office space, and the elevated television screens that relayed metropolis’s endless parade of calamity. everyone had to be up to date on the latest metropolis handlings of course, which was a bare minimum for the job.

preferably of course, your superiors expected you to anticipate stories before they even happened. just to always be fresh off the press.

see, you liked clark kent. you did. he was farm-raised, charming in a genteel, awkward fashion, and knew how to write a meta-human related scoop. much to your dismay, however, you'd accidentally stumbled across more about him than you would have liked. in short, not at all the sort one might expect to intercept a thirty-six-wheeled doomsday transport with his bare hands.

despite the intense panic that had flooded your veins as an eighteen ton bus hurtled towards your head (escaped science experiment, a typical tuesday), when the only thing between you and death was a well-built, kryptonian body, you couldn't help but recognize the damning curls becoming undone from their meticulous placement.

oh. clark kent, two tables down clark kent was you know who.

"kent?"

you knew he knew you knew, as convoluted as the concept was. you also weren't sure about the whole secret identity spiel. were you going to get tossed into space like a rogue meteor? laser-eyed into a charcoal crusted thanksgiving turkey?

well, maybe that was still on the table, because the smile on his face was too bright to be comforting.

the broad line of his shoulders blocked the sunlight streaming in through the windows, dimples carving their way onto his cleanshaven face as he delicately placed a steaming cup of coffee down on your desk, a matching one remaining in his own hand.

"this is your fourth year working with the daily planet, right? i just thought i'd get you coffee for the occasion." clark had said, leaning politely against your desk. well, this didn't feel like an alien interrogation, did it?

even now, it was hard to distinguish between your coworker and impromptu savior. while the man in the red and blue suit's hair had been smoothed back, clark's tousled curls spilled over his forehead to shadow his brow, blue eyes dimmed by the reflective glass of his black-rimmed glasses.

but you also couldn't unsee it.

"you were reporting on that escaped creature case yesterday, right?" he added, his tone conversational.

he was either playing dumb, underestimating your critical thinking, or trying to deem if you were trustworthy enough to continue living with such a burden as a kyptonian alias. but then again, clark trusted everyone, an endearing survival flaw. "i just wanted to ask if you're alright, actually. uh, routine staff check-in."