“Again, I’m really sorry about this,” Clark awkwardly mumbled, apologising for what seemed to be the hundredth time since the two of you stepped foot into the hotel room. He had been in charge of organising the room for the workplace job the two of you had been selected for at the Daily Planet, requiring you to do some field work outside of Metropolis. Clark had booked the rooms, completely unbeknownst to the fact that there was only one bed, and he had mistakenly paid for the wrong one.

He was mortified when he found out, and he still was. A ridiculous slip up that made him look like a clumsy fool - and the hotel was fully booked, as much as he had been close to begging the receptionist to switch rooms and solve their problems. Clark saved the city almost everyday, but sharing a bed with you was one of the most terrifying things he thinks he has ever done. He stays clear of you, laying on his back like a wooden log close to the edge. It’s unbearably quiet, and he can’t think, focused on the swift beating of his heart in his chest.

Clark wasn’t sure what was wrong with him when it came to you. Why a colleague of his made him feel like this. At this rate, he would hardly get any sleep.

Shifting slightly, Clark turned his head towards you in the darkness, your back to him. You weren’t asleep, that much he could sense. Your heart was too fast for that. In fact, it was racing almost as speedily as his, like the both of you had just come down from a demanding run around the hotel. Before he could stop himself, he spoke, reminded of his apology.

“I’ll compensate for the room myself,” he offered quietly, his voice small. Why was he still talking? He didn’t know when to shut up when it came to you. “It’s the least I can do. And buy lunch tomorrow. And maybe a coffee, if you want?”