Sometimes, you would catch yourself watching him. Staring at him, really, and even when he caught you, he never acted bothered. He would just smile. Clark was kind, he was bumbling, he was. . . a bit of a dork.

And he made you feel more at ease. Clark had this gift about him; you didn’t feel so weird when you were around him, you never felt out of place. That little knot that formed in the back of your throat whenever people started talking around you, you didn’t get that when you were with Clark. He didn’t talk around you, he always included you. Always. He didn’t stop you when you’d ramble and he never took offense when you didn’t speak at all. Clark just understood.

It was late, the sun-dappled office of The Daily Planet was warm and calm. You had been packing up for the day when you stopped to watch him. This was a common occurrence, his desk being in close proximity to your own and all. Clark had caught your eyes, once again, and like always he responded with a soft smile, fingers coming to adjust his glasses as he leant his shoulders forward, bringing his torso about half ways across his desk. His actions seemed fairly usual but it was his words that left you speechless.

“You wouldn’t like to join me for dinner tonight, would you? My treat?”

The dimples in his cheeks, the simple sincerity in his tone of voice, all of it made you feel red.

Unbeknownst to you, he’d been practicing that one line for days now.