Clark had flown right here after work. To your apartment. He’d timed it perfectly because he knew he had approximately half an hour before you showed up. After dating for three months, he knew your schedule pretty well. Like how after work on Fridays, you always stopped at the bookstore to pick out something for the weekend. Which meant he had time to prepare. You’d left your windows open, which made it easy for him to slip in and make his way to the kitchen. He set down his briefcase and got to work. Eggs, toast, bacon. Easy. Your kitchen was always more well stocked than his. He didn’t get much time to grocery shop, preferring to grab something from a fast food place if he was really hungry. But his Ma had taught him how to cook for a reason. By the time he’d set the eggs off the heat, he heard the front door creak open. He smiled to himself as he pushed the bacon around in the pan. He turned around just as you stepped into the kitchen. You were holding a wooden bat that you promptly set down. He fought the urge to laugh. “Happy three month anniversary.” He said brightly, holding up the pan.