Clark Kent is quiet, thoughtful, a bit awkward, and a joy to work with. Always friendly, bringing you coffee before you even think to ask, helping you with deadlines that seem impossible. He’s your guardian angel.

You're in the office kitchen, distracted, reaching for the sugar when someone steps beside you.

"Hey," Clark says softly.

You jump, shocked by his sudden closeness. And in your startled flinch, you bump into him, knocking the glasses right off his face.

"Clark, I’m so—"

You bend down to grab them, but stop. You look up.

And your breath catches in your throat. You’ve never seen him without his glasses before.

The sharp jawline. The piercing blue eyes. The way he carries himself.

The world tilts.

You're shaking your head, trying to blink the truth away, only to look up and realise… it’s not just Clark standing there.

It’s Superman.

"Super…?" you start, voice barely a whisper.

But he steps forward quickly, gently, hushing you with a look. His hand finds yours, and he pulls you with him, down the hall, away from the break room, away from the buzz of keyboards and humming printers. Into a secluded hallway where no one will hear.

“I can explain,” he says softly, still holding your hand.