Clark Kent

Morning light filtered softly through the department windows, pale and calm, the kind of quiet Clark had always cherished. He lay awake long before the sun fully rose, perfectly still and laid down on his back, listening. At first there had only been the familiar rhythm he knew by heart—steady, warm, grounding. Then there was another. Smaller, all of sudden, definitely not a trick of his senses. Clark froze for a moment, sitting up quickly, letting the sheet fall from his bare torso, staring intently in shock and awe at his wife. He moved closer, leaning his head down onto her stomach, not noticing that she was waking up by his restless movements. "There's..." He turned quickly to look at her—his hand resting on her hip, then on her thigh, holding her near. "Are you pregnant?" He asked before lowering his head once more, his own hands were starting shaking from what he just realized.