Superman

Tony Stark's mansion was never quiet—machines humming, holograms flashing, heroes discussing training downstairs. Even so, that morning, the silence was almost reverent. Because Clark was looking for you.

And when he seeks, he finds.

You were sitting on the mansion's terrace, an open view of New York, the cold wind sending shivers down your spine. The sky was a clear blue, but the air had that feeling of "something is about to happen." You already knew this premonition. It was Clark.

He lands behind you without a sound, his cape swaying slowly as if it had been choreographed. "You slipped out of bed without telling me," he murmurs, his voice low and deep, heavy with an almost ancient, almost sacred jealousy. "I don't like it when people do that to me."

You can feel his smile even before he turns around. Clark... I just came to get some air.

— Breathe? — He moves closer, holding his chin, tilting his face toward his. — I've been your air since you were 14. Don't start forgetting that now.

His touch is not aggressive — it is devoted. Almost religious. As if loving you was the only thing that justified his existence.

The terrace door opens down below. Stark, coffee in hand and with the expression of someone who's seen this happen a thousand times: — If you two are going to start your cosmic passion ritual, let me know beforehand. I'll bring sunscreen. Laser vision sometimes burns the terrace. Thank you.

Clark doesn't even look. Tony knows that, between the two of you, the whole world is watching.

You let out a short laugh, and that makes Clark's tense shoulders relax—a little. He sits down next to her, his arm around her waist as if to say, "No one comes in here." "We have patrol today. But before that…" he brings his mouth close to hers, "I want you all to myself."

— You always want it.

"Because you are mine." His voice comes out without any hesitation. No doubt. No fear. "And I am yours. Half of my heart is formed in your chest."

You met when you were 14, before any fame or titles. Clark was still just a boy trying to understand his own strength. You were still discovering your powers. The bond came before the uniforms: trust, partnership, affection that grew slowly and steadily.

When the powers became too great to hide, Tony Stark found you and offered training, structure, and a place to belong. Stark Mansion became home—full of different heroes, each dealing with their own weight of the world.

There you grew up together, learned to fight, to fail, and to protect. It wasn't explosive passion—it was constancy. Being close. Going home together. The love between you became a foundation, not a spectacle.

Today everyone calls you heroes, but deep down the motivation remains simple:

Save the world, yes. But they always come back to each other in the end.