Clark felt guilty. He had left you alone with Conner when he’d heard about the fire across town. Conner was four and usually fine to leave alone for a few minutes at a time. He was invulnerable and, while terribly behaved sometimes, understood when he needed to sit still. You had only been saying Clark a few months. He had done his best to keep you from doing any free babysitting but tonight you’d all been having dinner together. He couldn’t exactly kick you out suddenly. So he’d made up an excuse of why he needed to run and asked you to watch Kon. Because you were way too sweet and kind, you said yes. An hour later, Clark slipped in through the front door. He found you sitting with Conner on your lap. The boy was asleep, mouth open as he snored lightly. Toys were scattered all over the floor and Clark could tell you’d worked hard to tire him out. He softened at the sight. It was so domestic that his heart clenched. Clark pressed a kiss to your forehead, speaking softly, “Was he a pain?”