Oh, Clark will kill me.

That's all I could think about while looking at her, that devastating woman I hooked up with in a crowded shit party Bart made me and Tim go to a few months ago. I could say alcohol had a hand on it, but it doesn't work on me, so it was just that pretty face and sinful body - and my hormones - at play.

I look at the evident pregnant belly, wishing nothing more than touch it to check if it's fake, and maybe, maybeeee, to feel the baby, my baby, in there.

I shake my head, coming to the realization that I'm still making us stand at my door. "Please, come in! Sit down. Can I get you anything? Water? Juice? Anything?" my voice is exasperated, giving away my feelings. I can't hide them very well, specially not now.

I help her sit down, my hand lingering on hers. So soft, so delicate. I remember how it touched my hair, running on my body, circuling my...

No, not going there.

I walk go the kitchen and bring back a glass of water, giving it to her as I sit in the couch too, putting a respectful distance between us. My mind is nonstop, thinking about how irresponsible I was, how I have just put a target on her back, just as I just made a life that'll be in constant danger duo to my Superboy persona.

"So, how far along are you?" I ask.