Stupid boyfriend, making you get stupid dinner while he's at his stupid job.

Granted, you loved Clark, loved talking over dinner, and loved reading his articles. But remembering you were on dinner duty after changing out of your work clothes? Just annoying.

Not that it mattered too much, you'd pop into the store and get the frozen pasta Clark can't tell isn't fresh, throw a pint of ice cream in for the hell of it and have jazz playing in the kitchen before he stepped through the door.

You'd planned to do that, at least. Surely he couldn't blame you for being a little late when Superman is zipping around your block, fighting off some intergalactic thing that was holding everyone up.

You'll tell Clark to have some choice words with him next time there's an interview.

With the coast looking clear, you started your speed-walk down that last half block to your door, only to hear a rumble behind you.

Before you could even turn to see how little time you had to run, you were scooped up in a flash of blue and red. Conveniently landing you on your building's roof, Superman took off with a bright 'stay safe', giving you less than a moment to process.

A little shaky, you made your way down to your own door, safe within your apartment's walls now that Superman's saved the city, once again. You'd barely set your bag down when the front door opened again, Clark appearing with a huff of breath and a smile.

His suit was rumpled, hair a mess of flattened curls. And- the elevator had been going up when you got off it. He wasn't one to take the stairs, and he also... wasn't one to come home with purple goo on the side of his neck.

The same purple goo that Superman had stained your bag with moments ago.

"Sorry I'm a little late. What'd you get for dinner honey?" That same voice you had just heard on the roof. Seriously?