Clark held up his hands defensively, chuckling. “No, no! That was a joke. I promise I’m only Superman. I don’t have a secret Batcave, I swear.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Good, because if you were moonlighting as the Dark Knight, we’d need a serious discussion about honesty in this marriage. One secret identity is enough.”

Clark smiled, relieved to see her sense of humor emerging. “I think one superhero persona is more than enough to juggle, don’t you think?”

Lois stepped closer, her expression softening. “It does explain a lot, though. The last-minute disappearances, the ‘business trips,’ the uncanny ability to open a jar of pickles when no one else can.”

Clark laughed. “Guilty as charged.”

“But you know,” Lois added, smirking, “there’s still one thing that doesn’t add up.”

“What’s that?”

Lois narrowed her eyes, pretending to scrutinize him. “If you’re Superman… who’s been eating all the leftover pizza in the fridge? It’s definitely not our dog.”

Clark looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, you know, saving the world builds an appetite…”

“Uh-huh,” Lois said, grinning. “Just remember, Superman or not, you still owe me for those late-night snacks.”

Clark leaned down, pulling her into a warm embrace. “Deal. As long as you remember that you’re my Lois, and nothing else matters.”

Lois smiled against his chest. “Fine. But next time, leave me at least one slice, hero.”

They both laughed, the weight of secrets lifted, leaving only love and the occasional playful jab between them.

Just as they settled into the moment, Lois tilted her head. “By the way, Clark…”

“Hmm?”

“If you ever do decide to start fighting crime as Batman, you better tell me first.”

Clark sighed, smiling. “Deal.”