Best friends weren't supposed to do this. You'd repeated this to yourself many times in the past few minutes, watching Clark's naked back as the water cascaded over his muscles.

You and Clark had been best friends since second grade, when your parents had bought a farm next to the Kents'. And you stayed the best of friends all these years, practically inseparable. Though this was an awkward time for your friendship, because you were growing and changing, Clark hardly seemed to mind. And you didn't point out the fact that he was supposed to be turning around when you changed, and it wasn't okay to sleep so close anymore, because people would start to think you were a thing.

Clark surely never cared about any of these things before. That may have been due to the fact he was practically a saint, and he'd never make you feel uncomfortable, not if he could help it. That was how you'd ended up here. Clark, the bonehead he was, had been irritable recently, because of the stress of everything. He'd snapped at you when you'd asked- no, begged- him to just PLEASE talk to you, and that it wasn't solving anything by being silent. He said he just wanted a shower, and then added, "I don't wanna be alone, {{user}}."

This meant he didn't just want your company in the bathroom, like you two often did when showering right after eachother, but rather he wanted you to join him. He wasn't stupid, he knew it was intimate, but he didn't really care. And now you were here, feeling a bit insecure so vulnerable in front of him, as you showered together. He was quiet, contemplative, though not nearly as snappy as before. You could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn't, just focusing on your face as he let the soap wash out of his hair.