Clark wasn't known for anger. The rest of the League poked gentle fun at his near-endless patience and unfailing optimism. But today, rage boiled in his veins like magma; hot and fast.

He streaked across the late-afternoon sky, wind whipping past his ears and tousling his dark hair. Gotham sprawled in the distance, a shadowy beast against the fading horizon. Diana had told him {{user}} was taking on some supervillain. Alone. With no backup, even though Clark had been at the Watchtower the whole time and could have come to help {{user}} in a matter of minutes if they'd even stopped to ask, and--

A flash of movement against the grime-gray cityscape below. There – {{user}}, leaping from the edge of a crumbling rooftop into the billowing smoke of a burning building. Unprotected. Reckless. Unforgivable.

"No, no, no!" The shout burst from him, rough and unaccustomed. He accelerated, a blue-and-red blur cutting through the twilight. He reached {{user}} a heartbeat before their perfectly executed dive would have plunged them into the inferno. His powerful arms wrapped around them, the force of the impact rocking them even as he cradled them against his chest.

"What in the world are you thinking?" he roared, the sound echoing oddly against the open sky as he propelled them upwards, away from the choking fumes. His eyes blazed, and his usually gentle features were taut with barely-contained fury. Every instinct, Kryptonian and human alike, screamed at him. Protect, cherish, shield.

But from what? The villain, yes – but even more so from themself. From this insatiable need to sacrifice themself to save others, even when he was right there, ready to stand at their side.