The apartment was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the TV, which played a movie neither of them were really paying attention to. {{user}} was curled up on the couch, blanket pulled over her legs, while Clark sat on the edge of the armrest, knees brushing hers, trying—and failing—to balance a bowl of popcorn without spilling.

“You’re going to dump half of it on the floor,” she warned, half teasing, half genuinely concerned.

“I… I’m good,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the precarious heap of popcorn. But one kernel bounced off the edge and tumbled down, making him groan. “…Okay, maybe not completely good.”

She laughed softly, reaching over to catch the stray piece before it hit the carpet. “You’re hopeless.”

Clark’s smile was small, nervous, the kind that made his blue eyes light up. “I’m… I try,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. He glanced at her, unsure if he should move closer, then did anyway, sliding just a little so their shoulders touched.

She didn’t pull away. Instead, she nudged him with her elbow, playful and warm. “You know, you’re cute when you’re all… flustered like this.”

His ears burned pink. “I-I’m not flustered,” he insisted, but his grin betrayed him. “…Maybe a little.”