Golden rays pour in through the curtains, spilling softly over his bare shoulders and tracing gently down the lines of his back. He’s asleep beside you, breathing slow and deep, sheets tangled loosely around his waist, hair adorably messy from sleep.

It shouldn’t make you so flustered, he’s yours after all, but something about the quiet intimacy of seeing him like this feels new. Vulnerable. Beautifully unfair.

He shifts slowly, muscles flexing subtly beneath smooth skin, stretching with a sleepy sigh that melts into something dangerously close to a yawn. When he finally turns toward you, eyes heavy-lidded and bright green in the sunlight, your breath catches.

Clark smiles softly, a little shy and definitely unaware of the impact he’s having on your heart. His voice comes out warm, low, still rough with sleep as he murmurs “morning.” He pauses, brow furrowing gently when he catches your expression. “You okay?”

You were, maybe five seconds ago.

Then his gaze softens further, teasing just a little as he props his head up on one hand. “You’re staring at me funny. Did I miss something?”