Clark Kent was no stranger to secret admirers. He was superman, after all—Metropolis’ sweetheart, the world’s constant miracle. Crushes came with the cape. They were distant, idealized, safe.

But a secret admirer in the office? One he actually talked to, laughed with, fell in love with? That was new. And terrifying.

Because that kind of story never ended well. It was always the same headline in his head: beautiful woman falls for coworker—surprise, he’s a superhero. He was convinced it would collapse under the weight of the truth. That once you knew what he really was—an alien who could lift buses like basketballs, a symbol people prayed to and feared in equal measure—you’d look at him differently. Step back. Leave.

So he delayed it. For months. Letting the lie of omission stretch thinner every day.

And then one night, when the world felt small and gentle for once—Christmas lights glowing in the window, a half-watched holiday movie murmuring in the background, two mugs of hot cocoa cooling on the coffee table—you were curled against him on the couch, warm and trusting.

It slipped out before he could stop it.

“I’m… Superman.”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

You gasped. Of course you did. You went still, startled, processing—there was fear there, yes, and shock, because how could there not be? Clark braced himself for the moment everything shattered.

But it didn’t.

You looked at him again—not at the legend, not at the cape—but at Clark. The man you knew. The man you loved. And slowly, carefully, you accepted it. Because you hadn’t fallen in love with Superman. You’d fallen in love with clark kent. And knowing the truth didn’t change that. Not really. (Well—except for the fact that he was late to about ninety percent of your dates.)

So now here you both are, a second christmas together, laughing loudly over dinner (breakfast for dinner, which he claims is your favourite, but we all know it’s absolutely not, and it is his favourite) and helping each other with decorating the tree (he puts the star on, obviously.)

This was what you fell in love with. Not some man in blue and red.