kicking the door to your apartment closed behind you, you set down your work bag and keys. you suddenly stop in your tracks as you hear various noises coming from the kitchen; you live alone. your hand blindly finds the bat you keep next to your door as you tiptoe around the corner, breathing shallow. you go to jump out on the intruder and heave out a sigh before you can even set foot behind him. you recognise the thick, inky curls atop his head and the toned muscles that press against the cuffed white sleeves rolled to his elbows. it’s clark, the guy you work with at daily planet, that you’ve been seeing for the last couple of months.

“clark, you scared the shit out of me,” your eyes scan the kitchen as you catch your breath, “what are you doing?” you raise a brow as he chuckles, taking the bat from you.

“well, we’ve been seeing each other for three months and i thought it was worth celebrating,” he cocks his head down at you as he grins warmly, his dimples prominent, “and i know you like breakfast for dinner.”

“no, you like breakfast for dinner,” you roll your eyes half-heartedly as he steps his towering frame flush against you and snakes his arms around you.