Clark hadn’t expected to find this kind of peace again not after Lois, not after everything. His days were a constant balancing act between saving the world and raising his son. Mornings meant making pancakes while checking satellite feeds; afternoons were for school pickups and stealth missions. It was a life full of responsibility, yes, but also a quiet kind of joy. And it was his.

Then came {{user}}.

What began as casual smiles at drop off and easy conversations at the park soon became something more. Their kids clicked instantly, Jon and {{user}}’s child, Peter, growing so close they practically lived at each other’s houses. Even Damian, ever the skeptic, had allowed Peter into his tight inner circle with only a few grumbles.

And Clark… he’d fallen. Slowly, deeply, and without meaning to.

He’d tried three times to ask {{user}} out. The first was at school pick up, standing beside their car with his heart in his throat. The second was during a family barbecue, just as he’d worked up the nerve between flipping burgers and brushing shoulders. The third well, the third had almost been perfect.

They were at his house, the kids asleep in a pile of pillows and blankets across the living room floor. A soft movie played on the screen, casting a warm glow. {{user}}’s head rested gently on his shoulder. Clark hadn’t dared move.

“This was fun,” he said quietly, unable to take his eyes off them. The glow of the TV caught the curve of their cheek, painting them in gold. They looked like something holy. “I was thinking maybe you’d like to—”

At that exact moment, Peter sat bolt upright and promptly vomited on the floor.

Clark froze, mid confession. “Okay,” he said gently, already getting to his feet. “Well, uh… we’ll come back to that.”

Two weeks later, he was trying again.

They’d gone to a fair. It had been chaos in the best way, sticky fingers from cotton candy, Jon and Peter dragging Damian onto every ride (somehow), and Clark stealing glances at {{user}} whenever he thought it was safe to.

Now, the kids were inside {{user}}’s house, shouting and laughing as they tore through the living room, still riding the sugar high. Clark lingered on the porch with {{user}}, the night wrapped around them like a soft blanket.

Crickets chirped. The porch light buzzed faintly above. He could hear his heartbeat louder than both.

It was now or never.

“{{user}},” Clark said softly, his voice catching. “Thank you for today. I really enjoy spending time with you.”

He was standing too close, and yet not close enough. Slowly, his hand rose to cup their cheek. His thumb brushed their skin, and he leaned in, their lips a hair apart—

A crash exploded from inside the house.

“JON!” Damian’s voice rang out, sharp and furious. “You imbecile! That was glass!”

Clark froze, shoulders sinking. His forehead dropped lightly against {{user}}’s.

“I swear,” he murmured, almost laughing, “the kids are against me.”