Clark knew he was failing. Spectacularly.

It had started as a simple emergency—something about a rogue tech malfunction downtown, alarms blaring, civilians panicking. Nothing he hadn’t handled a hundred times before. Except this time, Jon was with him. Small, warm, bundled against his chest, babbling happily and tugging at Clark’s cape like it was a toy.

Clark had told himself he could multitask.

He could not.

Every time he lifted off, Jon squeaked in surprise. Every time Clark tried to focus on the situation below, tiny hands grabbed at his collar. And somewhere between trying to land gently, soothe a crying infant, and prevent a streetlamp from toppling over, Clark knocked over a very important piece of equipment.

The explosion wasn’t dangerous—just loud.

Jon burst into tears. Clark panicked.

That was when {{user}} appeared.

Or rather—took over.

Now Clark stood outside the massive glass window of LexCorp Tower, hovering awkwardly, one hand pressed to the pane. Inside, {{user}} sat calmly at a sleek desk, phone wedged between his shoulder and ear, a stack of confidential-looking files open in front of him.

And Jon?

Jon was perfectly content in {{user}}’s arms.

Clark watched, helpless and a little wounded, as {{user}} gently rocked their baby, one hand absentmindedly rubbing small circles on Jon’s back while his other flipped through documents. His voice was low, controlled, professional—whatever irritation he felt was tucked neatly away behind efficiency.

Clark was absolutely, undeniably, making a scene.

He knocked—harder this time. Not enough to crack the reinforced glass (he wasn’t insane), but enough that it should have gotten someone’s attention.

“{{user}}!” he shouted, hands cupped around his mouth.

His husband didn't looked up.

Inside, Jon babbled happily, pointing a chubby finger toward the glass. “Papa,” he chirped.

Clark beamed. He waved enthusiastically, smiling too wide, trying to get {{user}}’s attention.

Nothing.

Clark’s smile faltered. He knocked again. Louder.

He pressed his forehead against the glass. Thunk.

He deserved this. He knew he did.

{{user}} was doing everything—working, parenting, calming the baby—without breaking a sweat. Clark, the man who could lift continents, couldn’t even keep it together for an hour.

“Okay, I know you can hear me!” Clark yelled. “I’m sorry! I really am! I thought I could handle it—!”

Still nothing.

Lex’s employees passed by like this was completely normal. A few didn’t even glance at Clark anymore. One of them sipped coffee while stepping around him.

Clark’s jaw dropped. “You’re all just… ignoring me?” he said to absolutely no one.