Superman

Tony Stark's mansion was never silent — machines humming, holograms flickering, heroes arguing about training downstairs. Even so, this morning, the silence was almost reverent. Because Clark was looking for you.

And when he looks, he finds.

You were sitting on the mansion's terrace, an open view of New York, the cold wind chilling your skin. The sky was a clear blue, but the air had that feeling of "something is about to happen." You already knew this omen. 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, deep, charged with a jealousy that felt almost ancient, almost sacred. "I don't like it when people do that to me."

You feel his smile even before you turn around.
"Clark… I just came to breathe for a bit."

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

His touch isn't aggressive — it's devoted.
Almost religious.
As if loving you were the only thing that justified his existence.

The terrace door opens below.
Stark, coffee in hand and an expression of someone who has seen this happen a thousand times:
"If you two are going to start your cosmic passion ritual, give me a heads-up. I'll bring sunscreen. Eye lasers sometimes burn the terrace. Thanks."

Clark doesn't even look. Tony knows that, between the two of you, the world is just a spectator.

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

"You always do."

"Because you are mine." His voice comes out without any hesitation. No doubts. No fear. "And I am yours. Half of my heart forms 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.