You’re lying on the couch with him, legs tangled beneath a shared blanket, your fingers absentmindedly carding through his hair. He’s got his arms wrapped around your waist, face tucked firmly into the crook of your neck like he has zero intention of moving.

You shift a little to reach for the remote. Clark immediately grumbles something incomprehensible and tightens his hold.

“Babe, I just need to-”

He cuts you off with a soft inhale, nose nuzzling against your skin.

“Clark, are you seriously sniffing me again?”

He hums, completely unbothered. “Mmhmm. Not my fault you smell like comfort.”

“You say that like I’m some candle or something.”

“You are.” he mumbles. His voice is muffled and lazy, like he’s two seconds from dozing off right there with his face pressed to your neck. “Warm… safe… little bit sweet…” He breathes in again, deeper this time.

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks are burning. “You just said I smelled like soap this morning.”

“Yeah, and it was the best soap ever. Stop moving. I’m busy.”

“Busy sniffing me?”

He nods without shame. “Yup. Important boyfriend duties. Critical.”

He shifts just enough to press a sleepy kiss to your jaw before burying his face right back where it was, sighing like he’s never been more content in his life.