caught in 4k - chapter 2
clark kent x reader, 1.2k
summary: cat keeps setting you up on blind dates and you’re tired of it, so you just say you’re dating clark. this is immediately the wrong choice, as cat tells everyone, but clark can’t make you look like a liar now, can he?
a/n: finallyyy posting chapter 2! hope you like it <3
“I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend.”
You sigh with relief. “Clark, you’re saving my life here. Seriously.”
“Anything for you,” he says kindly. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you, and you can barely see him in the dim light of the closet, but what little you do see of his face makes you melt.
“Okay, so…” Don’t get distracted. “We can work out the details later at lunch, but right now all you need to know is that we’ve been dating for a few weeks now and, uh, wanted to keep it private. Cat will try to push you for details, so just evade her if you can.” You’re surprised by how even your tone is when, really, you feel like you’re about to combust.
He looks above and behind you, processing it all. Inches from his face, it’s easy to tell that this is a lot for him. If you’re being honest, this situation doesn’t feel quite real to you either, but you have no choice other than to face it. After all, you’re the one who told the lie.
You make your way out of the closet a few steps in front of him, and halfway back to the newsroom, you remember yourself and slow down. How do couples walk together? And why is it so damn hard to act normal all of a sudden? You grab Clark’s hand–perhaps a bit aggressively, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He smiles down at you reassuringly.
When you return to your desk with Clark in tow, your face slightly flushed (for reasons that definitely have nothing to do with the hand-holding!), Jimmy wiggles his eyebrows at you knowingly. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes, instead choosing to calmly sit at your desk. As you settle yourself, you imagine what might have happened if Perry had caught you two in the closet, and shudder at the thought.
Lunch takes twice as long to get to, or at least that’s how it feels. The comfort you usually derive from your work: being busy, doing what you’re good at, becomes a performance. The inspiration you usually have is inaccessible. You simply click and drag items across your screen with no purpose, and complete tedious tasks with no interest. You’re too worried about the situation with Clark. Actually, ‘situation’ is underselling it. How are you going to pull off faking a relationship in front of investigative journalists? Lois has already told you she’s going to interrogate you; it’s only a matter of time before you crack.
Buzz. Your alarm for lunch goes off, and you realize you’ve been staring at Clark for the past few minutes. You shake your head—as if that will clear it—and approach his and Jimmy’s desks. “Ready?”
He nods, and you both know the question isn’t just about lunch.
The trip to the deli is quiet, and you attempt to just appreciate the walk. The sun is out and you can feel a soothing breeze across your face, but all you can focus on is Clark’s presence beside you. Your arms brush every couple steps. It’s maddening, really. You can smell his shampoo (which really shouldn’t smell as good as it does).
As soon as you cross the threshold of the deli, you’re welcomed by the familiar diamond tile and old, wrinkled menus plastered on the wall behind the counter. You both order your usual, grab drinks and are heading to your seats when the cashier says, “Oh, can I offer you our couple’s discount? This week only, 30% off.”
Clark turns back to him immediately, blushing, and stammers, “Oh, uh, that’s alright, we—“
“Yes, please,” you cut Clark off. “That would be great.” You take his hand. “A couple’s discount, is that right?”
The cashier hums, glancing between the two of you. “The owner’s a romantic.”
“That’s nice,” you say, and pull Clark with you to your usual table. A year ago, when you started working at the Daily Planet, you were nervous and alone, but Clark had offered to go to lunch with you. He had taken you to a ‘little deli he knew’, sat across from you at this table, and you’ve pretty much never sat anywhere else.
Clark squints at you, quirking an eyebrow. “Couple’s discount, huh?”
You toy with your straw, a smile forming on your lips. “Just gotta… get into character, you know?”
“Right.” You make eye contact, and something simmers there. You can’t quite place it. Clark doesn’t look away, but before the moment changes, you interrupt it, clearing your throat.
“We’ve got to figure out this relationship.” He nods in agreement. “I’ve obviously never dated-but-not-dated someone before, so bear with me.”
He laughs. “Yeah, neither have I. But there’s a first time for everything.”
“Okay, one: we should probably set a date to… you know, end it. Break up,” you say matter-of-factly. You know you can’t allow yourself to get caught up in this. It would be too easy to let yourself fall for Clark, but you’re unwilling to ruin your friendship with Clark. He waves his hand, allowing you to keep going. “A good end point could be, I don’t know, two weeks from now?”
You fidget with the straw wrapper, anxious to do something with your hands. Normally, you’re completely comfortable with Clark, but something about this situation has made you a little unsure of yourself. Like he’ll reject you any second, and it’ll actually hurt.
“Yeah,” he finally says. “Yeah, I think that’s reasonable.”
“And second: boundaries. Cheek kisses, forehead kisses, et cetera?” You lean in to observe his expression better. He flusters, and this time it’s his turn to nervously clear his throat.
He shifts in his seat. “All of that’s fine with me. Of course.”
“Of course.” You sit back and cross your arms, satisfied. “Finally, our backstory.”
He perks up. “Backstory?”
“You know, who confessed first. When, where, how. Every couple has a cute little story they tell.” You raise an eyebrow. “What’s ours?”
He ponders your question, brow furrowed in deep thought for a minute before his eyes turn serious and he says, “If we started dating, I would want to do it right. I would’ve taken you out to dinner at your favorite restaurant—the one with that gnocchi dish you like—and held your hand across the table. Like this.” He reaches for you, and you oblige him. His hand contains a comforting warmth that does something you don’t want to name to your insides.
You take the opportunity to really consider what you’re about to do. What he’s doing for you. Any other person would have refused you immediately, but Clark is different. Generous. And he’s the only man you know who would actually take time to come up with an origin story for your fake relationship.
“I do think I would’ve confessed first, though.”
“Yeah?” He looks amused. “I think so, too, actually. But I’m the one who asked to make it official.”
“Fair,” you concede. “So it’s settled? Two weeks of… whatever this is?”
He squeezes your hand once and lets go. “Two weeks.”
