You're curled under the covers, screen glowing in your face, finger mid-scroll. Clark shifts beside you, already in his usual sleeping position: one arm tucked under his head, the other reaching for you blindly like a sleepy sea creature.

"Baby," he mumbles, voice low and warm from sleep. "Put the phone down." "In a sec," you murmur. "Just one more thing."

“Mhm.” He doesn’t believe you. He never does.

Instead of arguing, he does what he always does — rolls over slowly and wraps himself around you like a human weighted blanket. Big chest pressed to your back. One leg thrown over yours. A soft kiss behind your ear.

“Five more minutes,” you promise.

Clark lets out the smallest dramatic sigh. “That’s what you said twelve scrolls ago.”

You snort. “Are you counting now?”

“Yes,” he says. “Because I’m being ignored. Neglected. Replaced by a tiny glowing rectangle.”

He nuzzles into your neck like a needy puppy. “I’m cold. And alone. And possibly dying.”