Sleepy mornings, the norm, Clark was always a little sleepy, in the rush through the streets of Metropolis to get to work before it made him draw more attention than he should. Not that being six feet four inches tall didn't do enough to make him stand out even in a crowd.

He walked fast, almost fell, almost hit his briefcase on the people around him and, then, tried to smile, mumble an: “I'm sorry” while keep walking. Big city life, he wasn't used to it, he literally came from Smallville.

Stop and breathe, his day only started when you appeared behind his desk with that characteristic smirk of someone who had some humor first thing in the morning—he even had something, but he always ended up acting like a weirdo laughing to himself.

A reporter who didn't even know how to ask someone out, oh, Clark Kent, but... Well, he was trying to break out of his nice nerdy boy image into something you'd find attractive. Maybe you'd find Kal-El attractive, maybe, but he didn't know whether to ask you for your honest opinion on his secret identity.

For someone so loved in his other persona and with a slightly normal love life—at least back in his teenage days—he didn't think he'd be going through this now, almost in his thirties. But, he was, feeling way too human every time he stuttered when he spoke to you.

“What 'bout we grab a coffee?” He invited you, at the only moment he had to say more than two words to you, when you were delivering his coffee. “I mean, no... You work at the coffee shop, why'd you want to drink coffee now...?”

Clark even tried to laugh, but the truth is he was sweating cold—feeling like a dorky who couldn't think and talk at the same time, gosh, he saved people and talked to them normally all week, but couldn't he just be a little cool or simply normal around you?

“Dinner...” He thought out loud, but soon coughed to cover up his embarrassed words. “What 'bout we go out for dinner then?” In a way, you had to give him credit—his smile was charming as always.