She's sleeping.
Papers are scattered around her - stories, type-sets, and Jimmy's prints that need her approval. There's a pencil behind her ear, strands of short, dark hair twisting around it, and she's leaning her head on her hand while the other hand is limp against her stomach, fingers curled loosely around her glasses.
Lois Lane-Kent is exhausted.
And, from his perch on the stairs, he sees that, now. He could forget this moment. Just slip back upstairs and go back to sleep, still angry at his wife for reasons he doesn't even remember, anymore. But, he's never been very good at holding onto his anger. Especially where his wife is concerned. So, with a deep sigh at his own inability to carry a grudge, Clark Kent slips down the stairs and around the couch to gather his wife up and get her into bed.
He fixes the papers into a neat stack and slides them into her briefcase. Her glasses are folded into their case and set aside and he gently tugs the pencil from her hair. She huffs a little, shifting in her sleep, seeming to settle further into the couch cushions.
"Okay," with his hands under her arms, he can just move her forward enough to pick her up without causing too many problems, or waking her up. Unconsciously, Lois does what she always does when he carries her - she wraps her arms around him and snuggles into her husband's warm frame. "C'mon sweetheart, let's get you into bed."
Clark tucks his wife into bed.
Lois snuggles against her husband.
And, in the still darkness of the early hour, the anger from the previous day is forgotten.