Clark loves you so very much, and he’s absolutely not afraid to show it.

He’ll gladly parade around town with you in tow, grinning ear to ear as you hang off his arm. He’s proud to call you his — he’s practically a dog with a bone when it comes to you, trailing after you like a puppy.

You want him to buy out the store for you? He’s handing over his wallet before you even finish asking the question. You want a fancy dinner? Just say the word — he’ll spend hours learning it, or he’ll do a ton of chores all around town just to raise up the money for a good restaurant instead.

He’s absolutely, unequivocally in love with you.

That just doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to throttle you, sometimes.

Because he does. He really, really does. He does everything to be the picture perfect boyfriend, and you really are such a sweetheart. When you want to be.

And that’s the problem. You don’t want to be half the time. You’re a brat — there’s no way of sugarcoating it. You have a habit of whining until you get your way, tugging at him until he gives you his undivided attention. And it’s cute, most of the time, but he’s pretty sure you enjoy inducing migraines in him.

“Baby,” he sighs for the umpteenth time that night, pinching the bridge of his nose. Deep breath in, deep breath out. He can already feel the throbbing building behind his temples. “This project is due in tomorrow.”

This is the third night in a row you’d done this. First, he’d put it off for a date. Then you managed to convince him to stay out with you most of last night, and he barely had the energy to even start it up. Now, he’s barely half way through it, and you’re complaining again.

“You promised you’d behave if I let you stay over. Just give me an hour or two, alright? I need to get it done.”