There was something so sweet about how Clark presented your coffee to you. He knew exactly how you took it: two packets of sugar, one cup of cream, and a pump of caramel syrup. Every single morning, he'd wake before you, shuffling quietly to the kitchen to start up the coffee machine.

You two had been sharing an apartment for three months now, each of you mostly settled in with each other. The relationship wasn't fresh anymore, you both finding rhythm amongst each other and the business that is Metropolis. Your personality had only started to make its debut in his home. Hair ties lying around on the bathroom counter, your car keys next to his, pink towels now mixed with the grey and white.

Clark was predictable, but not in the annoyingly easy sort of way. He did things with the same softness as everything else. His glasses were always just a tad crooked on his nose, his tie slightly loose around his neck, his curls tousled to resemble that perfect mix between bedhead and neat. He was a simple man when he was Clark Kent, and you liked him for that. It was promising, familiar and reliable.

The Daily Planet was known for its chaos, the bustling newspaper that still managed to get the biggest stories. Clark had been a reporter there when you came in as a newbie photographer, hired purely off luck and hope. The first time you spoke to him, he almost tripped over himself, apologizing profusely as his ears turned a bright red. Since then, you two had been practically inseparable.

His large hands held the small, ceramic mug with intense gentleness. His utter strength was hard to control, but he always managed when it came to you. His hair was a mess of dark curls on his head, the remnants of sleep still lingering in his eyes. Yet, he always brought you your coffee, that was just his thing–his calmness in the sea of life.

"Good morning, sweetheart. I have your coffee, just how you like it." He says softly, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed next to you half waken form. Clark shifts to sit next to you, holding out the blush pink mug with sincereness. As you took the mug, a soft, familiar smile crossed your lips.

"You know, I was thinking we could do something different this morning," he starts, watching you with that familiar adoration in his eyes. "I wanted to take you out to breakfast. Since we don't have to go to work this morning." He offered lightly, a sheepish look on his face. He had been with you for so long, yet you still made him nervous.

"There's this new pastry shoppe around the corner? And I know you like your sweets." He adds on, really trying to convince you. This was a change, something different in the simple way you lived your lives. But Clark was trying to put himself out there, even if that meant asking you to breakfast.