you drag yourself through the door of your apartment after another grueling shift at the daily planet. your shoulders ache, your eyes sting from staring at copy all day, and all you want is silence. except the second you step inside, it’s not silent. you freeze.

something’s moving in your kitchen. a scrape. a shuffle. the faintest clatter of a pan.

instinct kicks in before reason. you grab the baseball bat propped near the door, fingers tight around the wood, adrenaline spiking as you creep toward the sound.

and then you see him.

clark kent, your clark, standing in front of the stove like it’s the most natural thing in the world, sleeves rolled to his forearms, spatula in hand.

he glances up and grins when he notices you. like you didn’t just walk in ready to swing.

“three months ago we had our first date,” he says, voice warm, steady. “and to celebrate that, i’m making you your favorite—breakfast for dinner.”

the bat clatters to the floor as your chest unclenches all at once. you exhale a laugh, half relief, half disbelief. only clark would break into your apartment to cook at the end of a long day.

you cross the room in three steps, wrap your arms around him, kiss him like you’ve been waiting all day to. he laughs against your mouth, low and happy, before his hands find your waist, steady and sure.

in one smooth motion, he lifts you up, sets you on the counter like you weigh nothing at all.

your legs wrap around him instinctively, pulling him closer. his mouth is on yours again, hungrier this time, lips parting like he’s been craving this since morning. your hands thread into his dark hair, tugging gently, and his breath stutters.

his lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck, soft at first, then deeper, lingering. he murmurs against your skin, voice low, the words meant for you alone.

he nips lightly at the curve of your throat, then softens it with a kiss.

“i know we saw each other this morning but i missed you,” he breathes, kisses brushing your pulse. “you don’t even know what you do to me.”