DOES THE CITY'S PROTECTOR REALLY HAVE TIME TO BE BUILDING FURNITURE?

CLARK was rushing past people inside the Daily Planet, a million things on his mind as he tried his best not to clumsily knock into people — it would hurt them a hell of a lot more than it would hurt him. His hands were full of documents he needed to sort through for his latest article about, well, himself.

Or rather Superman's latest triumph.

You'd think writing about yourself would be easy, but no. It was so stressful, especially with Perry White breathing down his neck about deadlines. It wasn't that Clark was bad with time management — he was just still getting a grasp on this whole double lives thing.

And clearly, he wasn't doing a good job given that Lois and Jimmy had both already figured him out. But at least he could trust his two best friends with the biggest secret on the planet.

As he rounded a the corner that led to the central hub where all the writers' desks were, he rubbed his eye underneath his indestructible glasses that he didn't really need. Only to make the mistake of running right into someone.

Of course, he barely felt it, but it sent the poor person to the floor, and the papers in his hand fluttered to the ground, getting out of order. His glasses that had been pushed up underneath his hand fell as well, bouncing off the floor.

"Oh, no," he muttered, quickly dropping to his knees to check on the person.

Only to freeze when he saw a breathtakingly beautiful and familiar face as she scrambled to get up on her own knees.

"Millie?" Clark asked in shock, taking in her still short hair that had the sides braided back. She was wearing a blue dress this time with a yellow cardigan that had little red flowers embroidered into it. And her glossy lips were smiling as she looked at him with delight despite the fact that he'd just knocked her over.

"Hi, Clark," she said, sounding so thrilled. "I was hoping I'd run into you — not so literally, but still."

"A - are you okay?" he asked, hands hovering over her shoulders.

She just shrugged and rubbed her hands that were sore from catching her fall. "You're like a brick wall, you know," she said in a teasing tone. "But I'll live. Sorry about your papers."

As Millie began gathering up the mess, Clark just looked at her, his blue eyes wide and lips parted. Because Millie was there. She was in Metropolis and right in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" he finally found himself asking, feeling useless as she picked up his glasses too.

Millie's grin brightened as she looked at Clark, having missed the almost brainless look on his face as he openly stared at her, his curls a mess and suit still fitting horribly. Carefully, she raised the glasses and put them on his face, albeit a bit crookedly.

"I got transferred from Central City to Metropolis," she informed him, unknowingly making his heart beat faster as he realized she was there to stay. "Mr. White made me the head of Metahuman Relations and Communication."

"That's amazing for you," he told her. "But what about S.T.A.R. Labs? Your friends?"

Her smile dimmed a bit. "Sad to see me go, but I'll be visiting plenty," she explained. Already, she planned to go back two weeks from then just to check on everyone and get the last of her things from her old apartment — she couldn't fit it all in her car in one trip. "Today's not my first real day or anything, but Mr. White had me come in to meet him and get my badge and stuff."

"I could - I could give you a tour of the office," he quickly offered. "I have the time."

Millie smiled at him, ready to accept his offer. But then Mr. White stuck his head out of his office and barked out Clark's name.

"Kent! Off the floor and in my office," he called. "Now."

Then he disappeared once again, and Clark sighed. Millie smiled sympathetically and handed him his documents that were out of order now.

"Maybe tomorrow?" she asked hopefully. "Besides, I've gotta head back to my new place and unpack."

"Where are you staying?" he asked while holding her hand and effortlessly helping her stand.

"The Mount Royal neighborhood. Don't remember the exact address yet though," she admitted sheepishly. Then she perked up. "But I'll be sure to have you over for dinner when it's all fixed up."

"I'd like the sound of that," he said, his cheeks burning. Did she mean like a date? "I'll see you tomorrow for that tour."

"Bye, Clark. It was good seeing you," Millie told him. Then, she boldly stood on her toes and kissed his cheek before hurrying off, him watching her go with a starstruck expression on his face.

Only Perry could snap him out of it. "Kent! I said my office now! That means now!"

Clark quickly cleared his throat and ducked his head, rushing into the office. Perry White stood before him, his arms crossed and a stern expression on his face.

"I'm about to get started on my article—"

"Not first," Perry cut him off. Then he pointed to the door, raising an eyebrow. "I knew you were familiar with McCall after working with her in Central City."

"Yes, sir. She's a great reporter," he said earnestly.

"Clearly, I didn't know how familiar," he said, smirking. Clark looked at him in confusion before Perry tapped his cheek, signaling that he'd seen the sign of affection. Embarrassment and shame washed over Clark, who wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "But watch yourself, kid."

"Excuse me?" he said, unsure of where this was going.

"The Daily Planet is a good, upstanding, and reputable source. I'll have no office dalliances getting in the way of workplace harmony," he explained in a hard tone. "You know there's a strict rule about office romances, and given that she's the newest hire, McCall would be the one to go, not you."

Clark quickly stammered out a response, not wanting to get himself or Millie in trouble because of something that had never happened. Two cheek kisses and a long, slow, perfect kiss in the hotel didn't count as a relationship — even if Clark longed for something like that.

"I - I'm afraid you have the wrong idea, Mr. White," he said quickly. "Miss McCall and I have nothing going on. It's purely platonic."

"Kid," he said doubtfully, "I've been a reporter for a long time. Don't take me for a fool."

"I'm not," he insisted. "But there's nothing to worry about when it comes to the two of us. We'll keep things professional."

Perry eyed him for a moment before nodding, letting out a grunt. "Very well. Now, onto this latest Superman escapade..."

☆︎

Millie liked her new apartment. The job with the Daily Planet came with a substantial pay raise, so it was nicer than the place she'd moved into in Central City. It was a simple, one bedroom that had a balcony that overlooked the city.

That's where she was now, on the balcony and trying to put together a lounge chair that came in several pieces. Any time she struggled to see in the dim lighting, she'd make her hand glow, giving herself plenty of light to work.

She was struggling to get a screw started, it wobbling back and forth. Then, much to her horror because it didn't come with extra screws, it slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the ground, rolling past the metal safety rail that had slots in it. With wide eyes, she watched as the screw fell down, down down.

"Son of a bitch!" she cried out in frustration, putting her head in her hands before the screw even hit the ground.

"Did you drop this?"

The deep voice sounded almost familiar to her as she quickly looked up. Only for her jaw to go slack when she saw the Superman — red trunks and all — floating above her balcony with a small screw in his hand. His dark hair was slicked back aside from one lone curl that fell on his forehead, and his amused, blue eyes were fixed on her.

"Yeah," she said, her voice a bit weak. Then she cleared her throat and reminded herself that superheroes were no big deal — Barry was one, after all. "That would be mine. Thank you, Superman."

"It's no trouble, Miss..."

"Millie," she told him, walking to the edge of the balcony as he floated closer, dropping the screw in her hand.

"Millie," he repeated her name with a charming smile. "What are you building, Millie?"

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning at how he repeatedly said her name. "Just a chair. Though I'm not very good at stuff like this. Downside of moving to a new town on your own."

"Maybe I could be of some assistance?" he offered while nodding to the pile of furniture pieces.

She raised a surprised eyebrow. "Does the city's protector really have time to be building furniture?" she asked skeptically.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Superman flew onto the balcony and built the chair using super speed. Millie raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief as three seconds later, a fully built lounge chair was on her balcony. Superman was standing proudly next to it.

"Handy," she mused. "I have a fast friend, but he never does favors for me."

"Well, anything to make you feel welcome in your new city," he told her with a nod.

"Thanks," she told him while moving to sit on the overstuffed chair. She grinned and relaxed back into it, eyeing the huge Kryptonian who was filling out his red and blue super-suit quite well.

"And oh," he said, opening his hand up. "Here's the extra screw it came with."

Millie scrunched up her eyebrows. "It doesn't have an extra—"

Suddenly, the chair trembled before collapsing beneath her. She let out a yelp as her ass hit the hard concrete floor, surrounded by the remains of the chair that fell back apart.

Superman looked horrified down at her and then at the screw and then back at her. But before he could apologize, she just burst out laughing. And he so adored her laugh.

Millie continued giggling while trying to climb to her feet. Superman quickly moved to help her, large hands engulfing hers as he pulled her to her feet. Then she grinned brightly up at him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, sounding so concerned.

"No bruise, no foul," she assured him. Then she began to tease him. "I thought Superman was meant to be great at everything."

"Well, there's a reason I'm a superhero, not a handyman," he pointed out. "Is there something else I could do to help the moving process? I feel horrible about the chair."

"You did help," she insisted. "You caught the screw." As she said it, she took the extra screw from him and held it between them. "You saved his little life."

"His? The screw's a boy?" he asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

"Screws are boys and nails are girls," she informed him. "That's what my friend Cisco jokes about when he's building things."

He tilted his head, the corners of his lips turning up. "What does that make a bolt?"

"I'm not sure, but he'll be delighted you're showing interest in his horrible jokes," she said, giggling.

"So, where are you moving from?" he asked, surprising her. She didn't think Superman would care to get to know her.

"Central City."

"Home of the Flash?"

"Exactly," she nodded. "So, your speed isn't that impressive, I'll have you know."

"Trust me," he smirked, "I could go faster."

For just half a second, Millie felt like her mind was melting, taking his words the wrong way. But after running her tongue over the edges of her teeth, she just smiled charmingly, determined not to make a fool of herself in front of the impossibly handsome superhero.

"I'll set up a race one day," she decided. "Loser has to speed clean my apartment and then buy me a pizza."

"Well, I see that as a win either way," he told her. "Either I beat the flash or get an afternoon with you."

"Smooth," Millie murmured, ignoring how her cheeks heated up. Then she quickly remembered the last time she'd blushed and who had made her blush — and though they both had blue eyes, she much preferred Clark's messy curls and his shy personality over Superman's clean cut look and his confidence. "I'm guessing you've got lives to go save?"

"At some point," he nodded. "I was simply patrolling when I heard you drop your screw. Thought even the smallest things needed saving."

"Well, let's not make you saving my ass a habit," she said with a grin. "The Flash might get jealous."

"Oh, his ego might not be able to handle that on top of me beating him in a race."