SUPER INSOMNIAC
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Nothing I tell you!
Clark stared at his face in the mirror. He looked normal, if not for the dark bags big enough to hold groceries beneath his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he slept. He needed sleep or he was going to have a psychotic episode.
He shuffled to his room, in his comfy blue-striped pajamas, and sat on his bed. He picked up his phone and found the number of the only person he knew could help him; happy they were finally on much better terms than a few months prior. 'Hey, can you help me with something?' He laid down on the bed and picked up the new book he had been reading for the past month. Bruce probably would not answer right away…
His phone beeped. He picked it up, desperate for help, and looked at the screen. 'Of course, I'm Batman.'
He rolled his eyes at the response. Sometimes he really grew tired of Bruce's crap. 'Right. Anyway, I can't sleep. Every time I drift off, I hear someone in the world yell for help. I literally haven't slept since I was "dead."' He inserted several weary emojis before pressing send and returning to his book. He settled into the welcoming comfort of his pillows.
His phone beeped. He picked it up and looked at the message. 'What have you tried so far?'
He thought about his moment of desperation. 'I took two entire packs of horse tranquilizers. They just gave me dry mouth.' He inserted a trio of disappointed emojis before sending the message. God, he hoped Bruce could help him. He hurriedly picked up the phone when it beeped.
'I'll lend you my night light.'
His brow creased with bewilderment. A nightlight? Seriously? Had Bruce finally bought a sense of humor? 'How would that help?'
He glanced down when the phone beeped and lifted it up to read the message. His eyes widened when he read its content. 'It's a red sun nightlight. You'll never catch me sleeping, Clark.'
He rolled his eyes. Of course, Bruce would have a red sun nightlight. Did he care how Bruce got his hands on a red sun night light? A little bit. Was it enough to stop him from borrowing the confounded thing? Heck no. He rose and walked to his closet, pulling out his hero suit. He could hardly wait to be nestled in the gentle arms of blessed sleep.
END
A.N: I know Clark doesn't technically need sleep (if I remember correctly) but I couldn't resist.