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Jimmy used to bite his nails constantly, until his jaw ached and his fingers were bleeding. He had since he was a child.
It was Clark who got him to kick the habit. They were sitting next to each other at their desks, when he tossed off some gentle comment about how he was putting himself at risk of infections. Then, later on, in the elevator, he suggested that Jimmy might want to get his teeth checked out. Jimmy didn't know how he guessed it, but one week later the dentist told him he was wearing his teeth down to an old man's.
He switched to chewing on pencils and pens, and eventually managed to get to the point where he barely felt the urge at all.
Sitting in the Daily Planet newsroom, his eyes stuck on the large, swinging doors, he had already drawn blood on all the fingers of his right hand.
His heart slammed up into his chest as he saw a tall, suited figure push through. A moment later he saw that it was just Frank from the international desk. Still, he tore his fingers out of his mouth and ran over to him.
"Hey, Frank, have you seen Clark? Mr. Kent?"
Frank frowned down at him. "No. Why?"
"Nobody's seen him since we evacuated the building."
Frank shrugged. "He probably went home to check on his cats or something. What's up on the Superman story."
Who the hell cares! Jimmy screamed in his head. With his outside voice, he mumbled. "I dunno."
Frank didn't even seem to be paying attention to him anymore. He pushed past Jimmy, his eyes stuck on the television.
Jimmy ground his teeth and went back to work on prying off his thumbnail.
Everyone was watching the TV, waiting to see if the Man of Steel was going to pull through. Richard and Lois had left to go see him in the hospital.
Jimmy couldn't understand it; of course Superman was going to be all right. This was invulnerable-laser-eyes-super-breath-Superman. Superman who ran faster than a speeding bullet, snatched falling airplanes out of the sky, picked up a freaking continent and flung it into space. He was going to be all right.
If only someone could spare one goddamn second to think about plain, old, ordinary Clark Kent who had disappeared in the middle of a goddamn natural disaster.
Did Clark even know that Lois was all right? He had seemed just as distraught as Richard when he got the fax from Lois with the coordinates. Maybe he had gone home, like people kept suggesting to him. He tried calling Clark's hotel room and left an embarrassing number of messages.
Other than that, he sat at his desk, staring at the pictures of Superman, flying through the wreckage of the city--the pictures that would make his career--chewing on his fingernails, and trying not to look at Clark's empty desk.
Finally, after watching Lois leave the hospital, clutching Jason tightly to her chest, nearly in tears over Superman, he had enough. He scribbled a quick note to Mr. White, and then left the office. He wound his way around the caution tape cordoning off the remaining rubble. He coughed on the smell of burned gas still hanging in the air.
He didn't even attempt to get a taxi out of the fray, before starting towards his apartment. He used to split cabs with Clark, before he went away. Jimmy felt invisible, but Clark always had the most uncanny ability to get the cabbies' attention when he wanted to. They'd only shared one ride together since he came back.
Even though every sensible part of his brain told him he was being an idiot, he still pulled out his cell phone and called Clark's number one more time, feeling his heart sink with every ring.
Jimmy jerked awake and fell out of his chair onto the floor.
He lay there a moment, trying to figure out just what had happened and whether or not the city was falling down again. Then, he heard the knock at the door.
"Coming!" He scrambled to his feet and managed to nearly trip over the cat as he made his way across the room. He barely bothered to kick his jacket out of the way before tugging open the door.
His breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth but couldn't get any words out.
Clark smiled. "Hey, Jimmy."
"C-Clark! Clark, Mr. Kent, you're okay!"
"Absolutely. Right as rain."
"Oh my God. Jesus, come in." Jimmy stepped aside to allow Clark in, then shut the door behind him. His heart was pounding; he felt ecstatic. Before he could come even close to thinking clearly, he stepped forward and pulled Clark into a hug.
"I… man, Clark…! I, I thought…" His face was buried in Clark's chest. He felt Clark's arms circle around his back. "God, I'm gad to see you."
"I can see that," he laughed. The next moment, his arms tightened. "I'm okay, Jimmy. I'm really sorry I worried you."
The realization slowly crept over him that he was standing on his tiptoes, stammering and hugging Clark Kent. Hoping that the burning feeling in his cheeks wasn't visible, he pulled back and looked up at Clark. "What happened? You walked off with Richard White, and the next thing that happened the building was shaking, everything was falling down, Superman showed up, and I… I just couldn't find you."
Clark pushed his glasses further up his nose. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I was out in front, getting some air, when everything started happening. I got caught near one of those underground explosions and got knocked out."
"Holy cats, are you okay?"
"Oh, I'm fine. I was just out for a second, and then I was caught up in all of these crowds. I know I should have checked in to let you guys know, but…" His mouth quirked in a small half-smile. "Honestly, I figured everyone would be more interested in Superman."
Jimmy shook his head. "And forget about ace reporter Clark Kent? Pft!" He shrugged and tried to grin like he hadn't spent the last few hours worrying himself into a heart attack over the other man. "Hey, you wanna, like, sit down, or…" He looked over at his kitchen table, covered in an empty pizza box, a cup of stale coffee, and some old prints. "I could get you some coffee, if you don't mind instant."
"That sounds amazing, Jimmy. Thank you. I could help--"
"No, that's fine. You just… sit there and don't go running off again." He saw Clark take a seat at the table out of the corner of his eye, as he turned to fix two cups of instant coffee. When the kettle started to heat, he spun around back to Clark. "Oh my God, I don't know if you heard. Lois is okay, Richard is okay. He went and got her and then Superman came and--"
"I know, I heard the whole thing. Thanks." He nodded over Jimmy's shoulder. "I think you're boiling."
"Oh, yeah. That was fast. Thanks." He poured out two cups. He thought for a moment about asking Clark how he took his coffee, but he already remembered. He'd still been making coffee runs for the whole office when Clark left. Somehow, "milk-three-sugars" had stuck in his mind after five years.
"Thank you, Jimmy," Clark said as he accepted the warm mug. Jimmy sat in the chair beside him, his legs curling up awkwardly on the rungs. It was strange seeing Clark in his apartment, sitting at his kitchen table. He seemed to dwarf everything; even the chair seemed brittle underneath him. And he seemed just as aware of it as Jimmy was.
Jimmy looked away and took a premature sip of the still-piping coffee.
"Did you hear that Superman left the hospital?" Clark said quietly. "Apparently, he's fine too."
"Of course," Jimmy snorted. "He's Superman. He probably falls out of space every other week. He just got the wind taken out of him or something."
Clark smiled. He reached out and, for a moment, Jimmy was confused, before his hands landed on his disheveled bow tie. Jimmy felt the warmth of Clark's hands near his throat as he righted the knot. He tried not to gulp too loudly.
He patted Jimmy's shoulder when he was done, then trailed down his arm. He held Jimmy's wrist and pulled it up to where they could both see the newly-formed scabs ringing each of his nails.
Jimmy's stomach squirmed briefly with guilt, at having fallen back on his childish old habit, but somehow Clark's easy smile made it hard to keep up any bad feeling. Clark was alive and looking at him with the same care and attention that made Jimmy's heart do backflips five years ago. Clark was in his apartment, holding his hand, and Jimmy was just as stupidly in love with him as ever.
"You should get some Band-aids on these," Clark said gently, his voice concerned and empty of judgement.
"Yeah, I guess." Jimmy started to stand, but Clark beat him to it.
"After everything that I've put you through today, at least let me do this. Where do you keep them?"
"Um. Drawer under the sink. On the left. Right I mean."
He looked from his bitten fingers up to Clark Kent, rummaging around his kitchen.
Clark was safe. Kind, good, easy, shy, funny, wonderful Clark Kent was back in Metropolis to stay, and there was a world of time, shared cabs and elevators and instant coffee, to tell him anything.
If the Man of Steel himself had showed up on his rooftop at just this moment, wanting to share every Kryptonian secret, Jimmy would have turned him down, because ten more minutes with Clark Kent meant more to him than five more years with Superman.