This heatwave is just about to kill Clark.

It's been humid. And hot. And having to wear a suit to work is torture, so getting home and stripping down to his boxers and laying beneath the AC feels like genuine heaven.

And with that, the knock on his door makes him groan.

He begudgingly drags himself to the door, yanking it open before he remembers that he's still in boxers and sweating bullets.

And then you're standing there. The neighbor he's had a crush on since he moved in. With a whining toddler on your hip. Looking sheepish as ever.

And he's in his boxers.

"Oh, good lord- hi, I'm gonna... um..."

He stammers before you can even get a word in, leaving the door open as he goes to put on some shorts or literally any clothes.