Lost between fandoms

“Buddy, be careful. They don't play as rough as you.” 

You watch as Krypto just stares, his tongue lolling, tail wagging ceaselessly. He gives Clark a large lick across his cheek, Clark groaning as Krypto bounds off again. You laugh to yourself, the screen door opening behind you with a rattling creak. 

“You doing okay out here sweetheart?” 

Martha Kent smiles down at you, wiping her hand against her flour covered apron. 

You give her a bright smile. “I’m doing just fine Martha. Thank you.” 

“Good. That's good,” there's a wordless energy between the both of you. The excitement that lingered in every glance, in every smile of the Kent household since you'd last visited. 

Martha hangs in the entryway of the house, her wrinkled hands clinging to the screen door. She watches Clark in the field as he chases after Krypto, a large smile on her face. It was a look wrapped up in motherly love and amusement, in hope of future memories yet to be made.

“He's gonna be a worrier. Over protective. Just like Jon was with him.” You chuckle softly, thinking about all the ways Clark had changed already. 

The glances in the car, the hand which never left the small of your back, the soft murmurs he kissed into your temple.

“You rest a little more, I’ve got breakfast covered."

“It's okay hon. Go sit down, I’ll finish the laundry.”

Clark worried alright. 

“He is. But I wouldn't have your son any other way.” Martha gives you a smile. 

“He’ll do alright. You both will.” 

“Thanks Martha.” You glance over as the sound of Krypto’s barks grows louder, the dog jumping against Clark as the poor man tries to make his way towards the porch. Martha laughs, a raspy and warm sound, and heads back inside. At the sound of the screen door closing, Krypto turns, spotting you. His ears perk up, tail wagging with excitement.

Clark’s eyes widen as the dog digs his haunches into the dirt, ready to spring at you. 

“Krypto, stop. Stop- STOP!” 

The dog is already off and your eyes widen as he launches himself at you. Your hands instinctively cover your middle, bracing for impact-

But it never comes. Clark stands, chest heaving, clutching Krypto by the scruff of his neck. Krypto dangles just a foot from you, his tail still wagging, tongue lolling as he blinks at you. Clark huffs as he sets the dog down, hands resting on his hip. 

“Dude, what did we talk about?” Krypto barks, trotting in a circle before sitting at your feet. You lean down, scratching the top of his head in the way you knew he liked. 

“He didn’t mean anything, Clark. He was just excited.”

Clark sighs. “He could have hurt you.” You look up at him, a pained concern written on Clark's face. Krypto could have hurt a lot more than just you. But he didn’t know any better. 

“He’s just a dog,” you smile down at the white canine. Krypto looks up at you, clearly enjoying your support. “Isn’t that right buddy, huh- and a cute one.” Clark rolls his eyes as you coo at the dog, Krypto licking your hands with appreciation. 

“Yeah, a bad dog.” You scoff with feigned disbelief. 

“Krypto is not a bad dog, Clark.” The man gives you a look.

“Honey, he practically destroyed our couch the last time we watched him.” 

“He was just playing.” 

“He would call chasing squirrels and eating mice playing.” Clark crosses his arms, glaring at the dog. 

You shake your head, giving Krypto one last scratch before standing. Clark moves quickly to try and help you up and you laugh. 

“I’m okay, I can still get up myself.”

“I know,” Clark flushes. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’ll be alright.” You reach out for Clark’s hand, squeezing it gently. He sighs, the porch creaking beneath his weight as he moves up the steps, bringing you into an embrace. You're engulfed by the large man, your arms wrapping around his broad back as he hugs you gently. 

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Krypto just watches the both of you as you hug, furry head titled as you both look at each other. It was wordless, but it was there. That secret thing you’d both been smiling about for a couple weeks now.

The thing that made Clark kiss you gently, made his touch linger a little longer; the thing that made you hum in the kitchen and smile a little brighter.

Krypto wasn’t sure exactly what it was. He’d been away for a few weeks with Kara, visiting another planet. One with flying squirrels!

But when Kara had dropped him off last week, he’d noticed it. The change. 

Even now, Clark and you were whispering about something, the man’s thumb brushing just below your belly. Maybe you were hungry. Krypto was always hungry. 

The dog nudges Clark’s pants with his snout, whining. After a minute of this, Clark tells Krypto to stop. The dog debates biting him. That usually got his attention. But it also got him yelled at. And he wanted food, not a lecture. 

So Krypto tries you, barking once as he nudges his wet nose against your legs. 

“What’s wrong buddy?” You smile down at him, your arms still wrapped around Clark. Krypto barks again, hopping up the steps of the porch and padding to the screen door. “Are you hungry? Ready for some lunch?” 

See, you got it!

You laugh, turning to Clark. “Lunch doesn’t sound too bad.”

The man chuckles, pressing a kiss on your cheek. 

“Anything for you, love.”  

--- October ---

It was hard to tell if Krypto actually knew what was going on. They say dogs are attuned to the human body, often sensing changes in emotions or health before their owners even realize anything was going on. 

But Krypto…

Krypto didn’t seem to quite understand why everyone was acting so different. He didn’t seem to understand why Martha and Jonathan visited so often now, why they always entered the house with beaming smiles and went straight to see you instead of him like they normally would. 

“Oh I’m sorry Krypto, are you feeling left out. Here I brought you a little treat- oh and honey! I brought you some ginger tea. All the women at the grocers said it helped them when they were preg-” 

Martha never did get around to giving Krypto his treat.

“Krypto, buddy you’re still here! It’s good to see you- Clark. I’ve never been prouder of you. It may seem like you’re in over your head now, but just wait. There’s nothing sweeter than paren-”

Jonathan didn’t play ball with Krypto like he used to.

Krypto seemed confused over the changes in Clark. The way the man would hover around you, asking if you were alright, if you needed anything. The way his hands always lingered on your back or slid along the side of your belly. The way Clark would get onto Krypto more than before, talking to him in a sterner voice, getting more distressed over the dog’s antics. 

“Krypto! What did I say about that room? It’s not for you anymore.”

“Clark! Calm down, he’s just curious.”

“I know honey, but with the stuff for the ba-”

The thing Krypto seemed most baffled by, was you. And you couldn’t blame him. You were baffled by all the things happening to you. 

He’d watch you with a tilted head from the bathroom door, your fingers clutching the porcelain bowl as you threw up your guts. He’d watch you with his big glass eyes as you ate three helpings of cereal in the morning, the plain cheerios you now ate instead of your usual cinnamon and almond kind. He'd watch you carefully as you lay on the couch, too tired to do anything around the house, your fingers gently tracing shapes around your belly. 

One afternoon, while laying down with your book and trying to rest after another morning spent hunched over the toilet, you finally decided to have a talk with Krypto. Clark was off at work, reluctantly leaving Krypto with you, and the poor dog kept trying to get you to play and go outside with him.

You thought maybe if you explained…

“Krypto,” you call his name softly, the dog’s ears perking up from his spot by the apartment window. You pat the side of the couch you were laying on, “come here, boy.”

Krypto trots over, nose wet against your palm as he presses his snout into your hand. You scratch behind his ear, his fur soft beneath the pads of your fingers. 

“I have to tell you something buddy. It's kind of a secret though, so we can't go around telling everyone.” Krypto sits on the rug, watching you attentively.

You feel a little silly talking to him, but there's something in his sparkling eyes that makes you somewhat confident he actually understands you. Or, he at least wants to understand.

“You know how I’ve been so tired lately? And how Clark’s been a little distracted?” Krypto stares, a calm stillness you've never seen in the usually hyperactive dog taking over. You shift on the couch. “Well, it's because I’m pregnant. Do you know what that means?” 

Krypto tilts his head, whining softly. Your fingers leave their spot behind his ear, coming to rest over your still flat belly. 

“It means I’m having a baby Krypto.” 

Krypto’s nose follows your hand, sniffing your sweater. His snout presses gently into your belly, white tail wagging faster as he looks up at you. 

You smile, laughing softly. Could dogs even smell babies so early in the first trimester? Did he even know what a baby was?? 

Krypto licks your hand, jumping on to the couch. You yelp, heart beat spiking as you worry about having to defend yourself from the overexcited dog- 

But he doesn’t bound about like you expected. Krypto’s usual rambunctiousness was lost as he carefully pads around your legs, paws digging into the cushions. You ease up a little, laying back down as the dog lays between your legs, his head resting just below your belly. And he just stares. 

At everything. At nothing. 

You’d been doing the same lately. Going into your spare room and eyeing the four walls, imagining a nursery instead of the cramped office room you had now. When Clark and you went grocery shopping, you’d linger by the diaper section, fingers tracing the printed images of toddlers on the boxes. At Centennial Park you’d watch toddlers running around, trying to picture a mini Clark or you in their place.

Even though nothing had really changed yet, it felt like everything had. Your baby, still too small to have even a heartbeat, had already shifted your world so much. They were already so loved, by Clark and you. By their grandparents. And now, possibly, by the hyperactive alien dog Clark watched for his cousin.

You smile at Krypto, his nose twitching as he watches you.

“You do understand, don’t you buddy.” His tail wags, brushing your leg gently. You scratch his head once more, a big yawn leaving your mouth, eyes drooping closed slowly. 

Krypto yawns against you, and you find yourself drifting off, sleep calling once more.

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The Metropolis sky was a painting of gold and indigo, the setting sun illuminating the towering buildings and knotted highways. The waterway glittered beneath the last rays of sunlight, a flock of birds fluttering past Clark in confusion as he flew through the clouds. Everything was beautiful at this hour, lights blurring into shooting stars, the world becoming a puzzle block of lives as Clark climbs higher into the sky. 

To the city below, Superman was flying through on his evening rounds, speeding past in a blur of blue and red. 

To Clark, he was trying to get home as fast as he could, itching to see you.

It had been a long day at the Daily Planet. Countless phone calls and dead ends, coffee that grew cold too quickly and a lunch hour that turned into a mission to save a building that had caught fire. Clark had even left work early, set on getting that takeout you liked so much and just spending the rest of the evening on the couch with you. 

He knew how tired you’d been recently, how this early stage of pregnancy was weighing on you. Growing a baby was no small task, as Clark was beginning to learn. And growing a half Kryptonian baby was even more challenging from what he understood.

But of course, Metropolis, as beautiful as it was, never slept. Halfway to the little chinese restaurant you loved, Clark’s ears prickled with the sound of a woman screaming for help. Twenty minutes later, a ship off the coast of Central City was thrown off course and had to be pushed safely into the harbor. 

And just a few minutes ago, Clark had stopped a malfunctioning plane from hurtling down into a city block, helping it to fly back to the landing pad safely. He’d done it all with a smile of course. Nodding politely as people cheered, making sure everyone was alright before lifting off again. 

But he’d missed dinner. His plans to surprise you had slowly slipped away as he realized ‘being Superman’ had come first. 

Clark’s mouth is pressed into a firm line as he begins to see the familiar rooftops of your apartment block. It was a lot later than he'd hoped to get home, and he was already brainstorming ways to make it up to you. Maybe he’d take you out to that museum you loved tomorrow, or make you a big breakfast.

Or-

Clark slows his speed as he spots the little flowershop, on the corner of mainstreet. He turns around, touching down on the street below with a gust of wind. The woman outside the shop looks up in surprise, her key halfway in the front door. 

“Superman!” He gives her a bright smile, nodding politely.

“Hello ma’am. You’re not locking up for the night, are you?”

“Well, I was. But if you wanted to buy something…”

Clark flies home carefully, the bouquet of pink lilies and baby’s breath clutched gently in his arms. Being Superman would always have its perks.

Your shared apartment is just a few buildings away, and Clark descends discreetly, slipping inside the open window quietly. His brows furrow as he enters the dim living room, the only sign of your person the knit blanket his Ma had made and your spare tupperware you'd been dragging around in case the nausea hit. 

His red cape drags on the wood floor, boots silent. Clark moves toward the kitchen as he registers the sound of sizzling meat, soft music reverberating through the thin walls. A surprised smile finds its way on Clark’s face, a sense of nostalgia washing over him. It was like a memory he doesn't remember having yet, the scene familiar in ways only dreams could provoke. 

The kitchen was lively, the smell of tomato and basil wafting into the living room as you cook spaghetti.

The small radio on the counter crackles with an old song, the one you always danced to in the car or hummed in the grocery store. 

“-It's such a fine and natural sight. 

Everybody's dancing in the moonlight-”

You stir the pot of sauce, hips swaying slightly as you sing, your eyes trained on Krypto beside you. You sing to the dog, his head cocked in curiosity as he gnaws on a half destroyed tv remote. One of the many destroyed objects in your apartment which had become Krypto’s adopted toys. 

Clark watches from the kitchen entryway with a fond smile, leaning against the door frame with the bouquet in hand. In just a few months, the scene would be different. Your belly rounder and fuller, the sound of two heartbeats echoing instead of one. And in less than a year, you'd be cradling a baby, singing gently. A baby with chubby rolls and an incandescent laugh; maybe a girl with your eyes and his dimples, or a boy with his curls and your smile. 

Clark can't wait to be a father. To cradle your baby close, to change diapers and wash pacifiers and rock them to sleep. The thoughts are distracting, and he’s so caught up in the future he misses the moment Krypto catches sight of him. 

The wind is knocked out of Clark as Krypto pounces, one of the island stools toppling over from the force with a loud clang. You gasp loudly, abandoning the stovetop and rushing over to Clark.

“Oh my goodness, Clark! Are you alright?”

“I- yeah… I’m okay. Krypto-” Clark turns his head away, trying to keep the dog’s slobbering tongue at bay. “Buddy, I know. I’m happy to see you too.” Krypto barks, managing to get a slobbery kiss on Clark's face. The man cringes, pushing the dog off of him gently.

Krypto pads off, distracted as he catches sight of his tail, chasing it around in circles.

You laugh behind your hand, leaning against the doorway. Clark looks up at you, using the end of his cape to wipe off his wet face. He grunts getting up, his broad frame filling the doorway. 

“Hi,” he smiles, embarrassed. 

“Hi,” you repeat, looking down at his hand. “Are those for me?” Clark looks down at the bouquet, frowning at the sad state the flowers were now in. It seemed nothing could escape the walking disaster that was Krypto. 

“They were,” Clark glares at the dog, no longer chasing his tail, but now off to chew on one of Clark’s old running shoes. 

You laugh, taking the flowers in your hands carefully. You brushed your fingers over the broken petals, caressing the silky lilies carefully. 

“They’re still beautiful Clark. Thank you.”

Clark leans in as you press a kiss to his lips, pulling him closer to embrace him. You move back into the kitchen as he begins to peel off his boots, leaving them and his cape in the living room. The bouquet, a little less sad now that you’ve fixed it, sits in a mason jar on the window sill. Clark watches as you begin cutting into a french loaf of bread, spreading warm butter onto the fluffy sides.

It smells delicious, cheese and garlic joining the tomato medley. You glance back at Clark, laughing to yourself. 

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Clark shrugs, coming to stand behind you. He wraps his arm around your waist, hands resting beneath your shirt. “You’re cooking.” 

You giggle, looking at him funny.

“You seem surprised."

“Well, you’ve just been so tired lately.” You nod, passing him the baking sheet with the bread. Clark lets go of you, putting the bread into the oven.

“I know. I caught a second wind today. Spaghetti sounded nice. You hungry?” Clark nods. 

“Very. I was going to bring chinese but I-” Krypto barks, padding over to Clark at the mention of food. The dog sits at his feet, looking up expectantly. “But I didn’t. I don’t have chinese buddy.” 

Krypto barks again, tail smacking against the floor. That dog just wouldn’t give up. It was his way or the highway.

Clark sighs and you pat his back. 

--- November ---

Smallville High’s football field is teeming with people, kids decked in red and gold, students chanting and shouting with anticipation. Families file into the high school, animated with excitement and anticipation. The stands buzz as people find their seats, kids already chanting, handmade signs raised high- “LETS GO CROWS!!”

The Kansas air was cool with the autumn winds, golden leaves falling from the school's trees, crunching beneath your shoes. Your hair flutters with the breeze, Clark’s hands quick to capture the wild strands for you, keeping them from blowing into your face. He stands behind you, his broad shoulders blocking the cold, his smile bright. 

“Thanks hon,” you smile, tugging your crimson sweater closer to your body- well, his crimson sweater to be exact.  

“Of course,” he leans down, planting a kiss on your lips. 

“Bleh-” Kara groans beside you, giving the two of you a disgusted side eye. “You guys are so  gross.”

Krypto barks in concurrence beside her, the sound muffled as he bites the leash Kara was holding, trying to run free. Clark rolls his eyes, tucking you closer into his chest.

“Kara, someday you’ll think differently. You just have to find the right person."

“No way,” she laughs darkly, kicking her sparkly red boot, along the cement. “Unlike you star boy, I don’t have as much luck with what earth has to offer.” 

You laugh, Clark giving you an unapproving look. You shrug.

“She’s not entirely wrong, Clark. I got lucky with you. But some guys here-” You and Kara give each other knowing looks. Let's just say dating at her age wasn’t entirely fun on earth.

“So…” Kara drawls, looking around the school’s football field as you enter the stadium. “Why are we here again? I thought you invited me here for food or whatever.”

“It’s Thanksgiving. We do this every year,” Clark says as the three of you approach the metal bleachers. “The high school has a game, we watch, have fun. And then we go home for dinner.”  

Krypto barks at the mention of food, looking up at Kara expectantly. You laugh, glancing at the snack bar across the way. 

“Dinner’s not till later buddy. But maybe we’ll get you a hot dog or something to tide you over.” 

From up in the stands, you can see Martha and Jonathan Kent already sitting, their arms waving high. 

“There’s Ma and Pa. Do you girls want something from the snack bar?” Clark asks, nodding towards the little stand cluttered with popcorn and nachos. You had to admit for a little high school, they really went all out. “I’ll grab it if you want to go sit.” 

Kara shrugs. “Only if you’re paying Kent.” Clark sighs, rubbing his brow line as he glances at you.

“Sure Kara. I’ll get you something.” 

“Okay, here’s what I want-” You try to hold in your laugh as Kara begins listing off things, ticking each item off on her blue polished fingers. “Oh and then a hot dog for Sniffles here,” Kara points to Krypto, the dog’s nose twitching as he watches the football players lining up on the field. His dark eyes trail the ball being tossed playfully, his tail wagging. 

“Okay,” Clark sighs, giving you a smile. “You want anything.”

“No, I’m okay.” He nods, but waits for a second, blue eyes sparkling playfully behind his glasses.

“You sure?” You laugh, raising your hand with confusion. 

“Of course I am, I don’t want-” and then the smell hits you. Buttery and sweet. The scent of caramelized sugar wafting your way, thick and decadent. “Actually-”

“I’ll get you some caramel corn, don’t worry.” You squeeze his bicep, lips pecking his cheek. Of course he knew. He always did. “Thanks.”

Clark turns on the heel of his sneaker, making his way to the snack stand with a bright smile on his face. Kara just shakes her head, looking at you with disbelief. 

“I can’t believe you married that oaf.”

“Kara! He’s your cousin-”

“Yeah, all the more reason for me to be so surprised.” You laugh, climbing the metal stairs carefully, Kara and Krypto trailing behind you. 

“So… you explore any fun planets recently?” You ask, switching the subject. 

“Eh,” Kara shrugs, “nothing I haven’t seen already. Although I did almost get sucked into a dying star on the way here. That was cool.” You look at her with a raised eyebrow, concern tugging at your heart. Kara had always been a little reckless; brave and courageous in a way that made you both proud and seriously scared for her well being.

“Kara! Thank goodness you weren’t. I can’t even imagine-”

“Don’t worry about it. I would have gotten out eventually. I just might have missed your holidays. Would have been a blessing in disguise.” You shake your head, wrapping your arm around her shoulder. 

“No way. I can’t imagine not having you here.” Kara's mouth quirks upwards at that. Not a full smile, but something.

Martha and Jonathan greet you both with wide, warm hugs, smiling brightly. Kara begrudgingly gives in to Martha’s tight squeeze, the girl’s hands still stuck in the pocket of her cropped denim jacket. 

“How was the drive over?” Jonathan asks, grinning.

“Oh, it was alright,” you smile.

“Long,” Kara rolls her eyes, slumping onto the metal bench. She frowns. “Jeez, these things are uncomfortable.

Krypto hops onto the bench beside her, looking up at you expectantly. Martha leans into you as you squeeze past her, her hand gently pausing you. 

“Your last appointment go okay?” She asks quietly. You smile and nod. 

“Swimmingly. Clark has the pictures to show you later in his truck.” 

“Good, good. I need a copy of those if he’s got the time.” You chuckle, giving her cheek a kiss as you move to sit next to Kara. She gives you a weird look as you settle into the seat, Krypto climbing over Kara’s red boots and coming to sit on your lap. 

“What was that about?” She asks, nodding to Martha, who was now engrossed in sharing Jonathan’s binoculars to look for Clark. You flush, trying to act casual.

Darn super hearing….

“Uh… just a doctor’s appointment I had last week. It’s nothing to worry about."

“Uh huh,” Kara nods, her eyes narrowed. She doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t press. 

The cheering gets louder in the stands as the players begin to get into their position on the field and Krypto presses his snout into your belly, his furry body heavy on your thighs. You smile down at him, scratching his ears. He made an alright secret keeper. Better than Clark who practically told Kara about the baby the second she’d landed on your apartment rooftop. 

You hadn’t wanted to tell anyone else just yet. Not with it being so early. Clark’s parents finding out so soon had been somewhat of an accident; the minute Clark and you had stepped into their doorway for brunch on a Saturday and one look at the two of you was enough for Martha Kent to know. She was too smart for her own good. 

Clark, who was over the moon and wanted to tell every person he came in contact with, didn’t quite understand why. But when you explained just how fragile the early stages of a human pregnancy could be, he slowly agreed. More for your peace of mind than anything. And besides, it was kind of fun to have something that was just yours. A little secret that only the two of you knew about. 

Well, the two of you, his parents, and Krypto knew.

Clark finally makes his way up the stands, balancing a ridiculous amount of food in his arms. Martha and Jon are quick to greet him, Clark giving them that radiant smile of his as he scoots down the bench carefully, moving to sit next to you. Krypto wastes no time in trying to eat, Clark having to fend the canine off.

“Hey, dude, wait just a second. I’ll get you your food, just give me a minute.” Kara leans over you, hand held out for her food. Clark passes her half of the things he was carrying, hot dogs and popcorn. A cup of chips and queso with a ridiculous amount of bacon. 

The greasy smell hits you like a train and you feel your stomach churn. Your quick to cover your nose with the back of your hand, trying not to think about the wave of nausea that was hitting you.

"Here honey," he passes you the caramel corn, the sweet smell doing little to combat the feeling. You take it with a grimace, letting out a shuddering breath.

Clark doesn’t seem to notice as he listens to something his Ma is telling him, carefully feeding Krypto a hot dog. 

“Uh huh,” he nods, glancing at his Ma. “I don't think the market’s real good right now.” 

“You’re just not looking. Old Pete’s fixing up his house for sale-”

Their voices begin to blend together as you focus on not hurling everywhere. Krypto is a heavy weight against you and you stifle a moan as he turns his body around, paw plunging into the meat of your thigh painfully. The crowd begins to cheer around you, the game beginning with a flourish of red and gold. 

None of it really matters as you feel the bile rising in the back of your throat. Kara chews on her food, giving you a concerned look, brows drawn together. 

“Hey, you’re looking kinda green.”

“I’m fine Kara,” you breath, Clark finally looking over as you stutter your next sentence. “I just-” 

The world swims, the familiar dizziness and sting of bile rising hitting you all at once.

“Hon-” Krypto must see the look in your eyes because he’s moving out of the way as your body jerks. Clark reaches out for you, but it’s too late. You vomit into your lap, shaking with exertion. Martha gasps with surprise, already reaching in her handbag for a handkerchief. 

“Oh, honey,” she frowns, concerned.

Clark holds back your hair, quickly kneeling beside you as you ride the wave of nausea. 

“Oh my-” Kara cringes, the piece of popcorn in her hand forgotten as she looses her appetite. “What-”

You groan as you finish, snot and bile dripping from your face. If you weren’t feeling so awful, you might have half the brain to feel embarrassed, people in the stands giving you sympathetic looks. Clark is quick to try and cover your stained lap with his flannel, squeezing your clammy hand.

“You’re okay-”

“Clark, you’re shirt,” you groan.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Clark takes the handkerchief from his Ma, grateful that she was already on damage control, telling people not to worry. 

“Clark,” Kara hisses, watching you carefully. “What the heck is happening?” 

“It’s nothing, I just,” Clark sighs, shaking his head. “Can you get in her bag and find the bag of ginger chews? I think she has some in there.” 

“Okay,” Kara sighs, not satisfied with the answer. She rifles through your bag, not noticing the fact Krypto wasn’t paying attention to any of you anymore.

The crowd was a mix of murmurs and cheers, half of them glancing at you as you tried not to throw up again, the other half focused on the game. Krypto happened to be part of the latter half, his sharp eyes and super vision watching the football as it was tossed in the air, soaring with an impressive arch into the arms of one of the meaty players.

“Honey, listen- are you gonna be sick again? I can go get the car but I don’t want to leave you if you’re gonna be sick again.” Clark whispers to you gently, and you appreciate how kind he’s being. Especially since you’ve thrown up all over the two of you.

“I ruined the game, didn’t I,” you moan, stomach churning again. He laughs quietly, shaking his head. 

“Of course not. Nothing’s been ruined, okay? We’re just going to have to change our plans a little.” You nod, giving him a pained smile as he strokes your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. Kara lets out a surprised noise beside you, and you and Clark turn to her. She looks at you with a fiery passion, holding up the bottle of prenatal vitamins you’d forgotten in there. 

“I knew it,” She hisses, grinning maniacly. “I knew it. Clark, you are such a bad liar. Just a stomach bug my -” her words are cut off as people on the bleachers below cry out.

The three of you all look up, Clark’s eyes wide as he watches Krypto bound across the bleachers. Kara lets out a string of curses, the leash laying ripped to shreds on the bench, the game below in disarray as Krytpo pounces on the player carrying the ball. The dog runs around on the field and Kara begins to laugh hysterically as the players try to chase him.

"Run Krypto! Keep going boy!"

You groan as people stop looking at you and start pointing at Krypto who's bolting off the field, a pack of teenage boys after him. Martha and Jon watch in surprise, Clark groaning beside you.

"Oh cheese and crackers- Hon, I'll be back I- KARA! Stop laughing and help me get the dog!"

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The quiet of the Kent farm is a reprieve from the chaos of the football game. Clark sighs as he watches you sleep, his hands stroking your damp hair. A shower, change of clothes and a good nap was what you had needed after the messy afternoon. He leans on his elbow, hovering over you as he presses a kiss to your flushed cheek. 

The mattress creaks as he gets up, the pair of blue sweats he was wearing loose at his hips, an old University t-shirt stretched against his taut muscles.

He leaves the room quietly, taking the box of kleenex and ‘just in case’ bucket with him. The nausea hadn’t really stopped since you both had left the game, Thanksgiving dinner thrown out the window for you. Clark felt terrible, knowing how much you enjoyed spending time with family and eating. It wouldn’t always be like this, he tries to remind himself. Morning sickness only lasted a little while. 

But he still felt terrible that you had to go through it. 

He thoroughly rinses out the bucket in the bathroom down the hall, the faint noise of the tv playing and Jonathan’s snores reverberating in the house. Clark can hear the soft pattern of footsteps headed his way, a smile making its way on his face as his Ma peeks in the bathroom. 

“Are ya decent Clark?” He laughs.

“Of course Ma. I wouldn't keep the door open if I wasn’t.” 

“Well, you took a much different approach to the bathroom when you was younger,” she chuckles, giving him a soft smile. “Your wife doing okay now?”

Clark nods, humming. “Her system finally calmed down enough to let her rest. It was like she couldn’t stop.” He looks down at his bare feet, hand brushing through his dark curls. “I just wish there was something more I could do to help her, Ma.”

“I know, Clark. I know,” she pats his back comfortingly. “You’re doing all you can now though. And that’s what matters. Just being there for her. That’s half of what being a daddy is, you know.”

Clark shakes his head, looking away with embarrassment. He watches as his Ma nods, eyes faraway in a memory. She shakes her head, pulling her knitted cardigan tighter over her body. 

“I almost forgot what I came in here for. Your cousin was looking for ya.” 

“Was she?” Clark asks, eyebrow raised. Martha hums in agreement.

“Said she wanted to talk to ya about something before she left.” Clark holds back a sigh, scratching the back of his neck as he moves towards the door.

“Thanks Ma,” he kisses her cheek, heading out to the back of the house. The last golden rays of the Kansas sun were dipping below the horizon, bathing everything in a gilded hue. Kara danced around the grass as Krypto nipped at her, laughter spilling out through the backyard. Clark shakes his head, trying not to relive the disaster from the game earlier. 

Kara finally catches sight of his flanneled frame, giving Clark a bright and mischievous smile.

“Hey Daddio.” Clark cringes.

“Don’t call me that K.” She shrugs, knowing full well she was probably going to do it again.

"Since when are you the boss?"

"Since you can't control that dog of yours." Clark gives her a pointed look, gesturing towards Krypto who was currently tearing up a patch of his Ma's flowers, dirt flinging high in the air as he digs.

Kara watches, shrugging. "Well, on that subject, I actually wanted to talk to you about him." Clark raises an eyebrow and Kara gestures towards the porch swing, sitting on the wooden bench with a creak. Clark follows, slumping into the seat beside her.

"So... you're gonna be a daddy." Clark smiles at his feet, nodding.

"Yup. In about seven months or so." Kara nods, her legs swining as she leans forward on her hands.

"Well, I've been thinking and I wanted to propose something. A little 'you help me, I help you situation.'"

"Uh huh," Clark glances at Kara suspiciously, not entirely sure where she was going with this. "And help me... how exactly?"

"Okay, babies need a lot of attention right. You have to feed them and keep them out of trouble, and change them-"

"Yes, Kara. I believe having a kid means keeping them alive."

"Well, I was thinking, maybe, you would like some practice. You know, taking care of something like that."

"Right..." Clark narrows his eyes. He did not like where this was going. Kara smiles, gesturing out to the field. Clark's eyes go wide and he shakes his head. "No. No way Kara, that dog- there's no way."

"Oh, come on Clark! Krypto likes you. And he doesn't like just anyone. Trust me, he'll be really good practice!"

"What- you love that dog? Why would you want me to take him-"

"Here's where we help each other," she gestures between herself and Clark. "I leave you my dog, you take care of him, maybe teach him some manners- and I will take care of all the big bads who want to eat up the universe."

Clark blinks, trying to understand what she was saying. Kara sighs, mumbling something about Clark's brain running slow.

"I'm sure your wife's not going to be happy if you're flying off world all the time. Bless her heart, she would say she wouldn't mind. But we both know that girl is a worse liar than you are. This way, I don't even have to fly far to party, and you get to stay home."

Clark rubs the bottom of his lip as he thinks. It was actually quite thoughtful- Kara offering to take on the universe while you were pregnant.

But Krypto... Clark makes a face as he watches the dog pad towards the porch, his white fur caked in dirt and broken flowers. He looks up at Clark, fluffy ears flopping as his body shakes.

"Kara," he sighs, reaching out to scratch behind Krypto's ear. "I really don't know-"

"I'm not gonna offer it again." She smiles. "I'd rather not be here while the baby is cooking. Pregnancy is really not my thing. Babies neither, but I'll suck up babysitting later for you." Clark snorts.

"You are not babysitting." She shrugs.

"You'll change you mind someday." Clark looks away, Kara standing with a stretch. "Just think about it Kal."

She heads inside, leaving Krypto and him on the porch alone. Clark sighs.

Krypto just sneezes.

--- December ---

The Christmas tree glistened in your apartment, lights glowing as snow softly drifted into Metropolis’ streets outside. Clark was busy working on decorating your tree, his big hands spreading the branches and fluffing the spruce. The tree was too big for your tiny living room, the top brushing against the ceiling, your furniture pushed around to accommodate for its girth. 

But it had been with the both of you since you’d gotten married. A miscalculation in Clark’s measuring, one that had made you both double over in laughter the first time you’d set it up in your apartment. Even if it was too big, it was part of your little family. You’re growing family. 

Krypto barks as he pads through the living room, coming to sit beside you on the floor as you unwrap ornaments. It was a little hard to believe that Kara had just left him with the both of you. She'd disappeared after her talk with Clark, leaving nothing but a note on the counter, a crude drawing of Superman and Krypto on it, a heart surrounding the two of them.

Clark had tried to track down his cousin for three days, Krypto in tow as he flew across the milky way. He had come home exhausted, missing you and still being trailed by the Kryptonian dog. Of course, he'd been a bit stubborn about admitting Kara might have been right about off world missions. He tried telling himself nothing had changed. It was like any old business trip; and he'd been gone for days at a time before.

But the tight hug you had given him when he returned, the sigh of relief and kiss- a kiss that had left him flushed and more than willing to follow you back into the bedroom- had changed his mind. And he didn’t mind Krypto, really. But seven whole months of the guy…

“Be careful Krypto, those are glass.”

Clark glances back at you, your arms around the dog as you try to move him away from the box of sparkling ornaments. It’s to no avail, Krypto much stronger as he sniffs through the glass things. 

You sigh, shaking your head as Krypto picks up a plush reindeer in his jaws, biting down on the stuffed ornament. Clark watches as the dog pads away with his new prize, chewing on the reindeer with a concerning level of ferocity. 

“What on earth are we going to do with him?” You chuckle, looking up at Clark. He shrugs, rubbing the arch of his brow.

“I don’t know, honestly.”

“I mean, Kara was right. He’s great practice. But-”

“He’s also the worst roommate ever.” You laugh. 

“That’s for sure.”

Clark smiles, quick to help you up when you reach out for his hands. You lean into his warm frame, arms wrapped around his torso as you look over the sparkling tree. 

“It’s so pretty already. Even with just the lights.” Clark hums in agreement, kissing the top of your head. 

“Yeah. It’ll be better with all the ornaments.” There’s a loud crunch, the sound of glass shattering behind you, and you both turn, Krypto stepping into the box with a soaking wet and torn reindeer in his mouth. Clark sighs and you frown. 

“Or, what’s left of them,” you breathe, giving the dog a stink eye. Krypto doesn’t seem to be bothered by the fact he’s just broken three ornaments, ready to step on a fourth one when Clark leaves your side, swooping in to pick up the dog. 

“Okay- I think it’s time to play at the fortress a bit.” Krypto barks as Clark carries him to the big window of your apartment. You shiver as he opens the glass, pulling your arms tight around your body. Krypto is already bounding off into the snowy sky, barking at Clark impatiently as the man steps onto the ledge. “I’ll be back in a jiff.” “Fly safe Clark.” He smiles, leaning down and kissing you goodbye. 

“Always.”

You wave as he takes off, flying after Krypto in a blur of flannel, nothing but the disrupted swirl of snowflakes to signal he’d even been there.

------------------------------------------------------

Clark enters the softly lit apartment from the door this time, juggling a half ripped gift bag in one hand and the sleeping dog in his other arm. It’s warm with the Christmas tree, the living room still a mess of boxes and tissue paper. Clark carefully closes the door with the heel of his sneaker, setting the bag on the coffee table and carefully laying Krypto down in his dog bed. 

You’d never know the chaos the dog caused if you saw him sleeping; Krypto’s paws occasionally twitched as he dreams, his small body moving up and down softly. Clark gives the dog’s head a soft pat before grabbing the gift bag and heading off to find you.

He chuckles softly as he enters your room, spotting the small tree you had set up on the corner dresser, your fingers working diligently as you hang red and gold ornaments. It takes a moment before you realize he’s there, glancing back with a bright smile gracing your face. Clark’s heart skips a beat, knowing he can always make you smile. 

“Hey! I didn’t hear you come back in.” Clark kicks off his sneakers, coming beside you and planting a kiss on your shoulder. 

“I was trying to be quiet. Didn’t want to wake ‘Dennis the Menace’ in there,” he nods back to the kitchen. You giggle, hand covering your mouth as you put up another ornament. 

“Poor guy. Did he try to eat any more of your robots?”

“Nah,” Clark laughs. “I think Gary’s put him in his place.” You hum in reply, observing the Christmas tree carefully. 

“You think this is okay? I don’t know if it needs anything else.” Clark smiles, delighted at the perfect segway you’d provided. 

“Actually, I have something else we could put up.” Your brows quirk in curiosity, gaze drawn to the gift bag he held up. 

“What’s this?”

“Just a little something.” You take the bag from him. Clark laughs as you eye the ripped bag; your fingers gently pulling out the crumpled tissue paper, the bag crinkling as you dig inside. 

“Oh,” you smile, pulling out a small ornament box, peering at its front. It was a small little thing, a little gingerbread themed frame to put on the tree. “Baby’s first Christmas.” Clark nods, grinning proudly.

“I thought we could use one. Considering this is technically our baby’s first Christmas.”

“Clark,” you laugh, “these are usually for when the baby’s already here.” 

Clark shrugs, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. 

“Look inside.” You do, opening the box and shaking out the little ornament. You stare with awe at the little picture already inside the frame, a cut out of your latest sonogram picture. Clark looks down at his feet, suddenly embarrassed. Was this too corny? “Gary helped me out. Said it’d be nice to replace the ornaments Krypto broke.” 

You give him a knowing look, the one that said you didn’t believe Gary gave half a care about what Krypto did. No, this had Clark's fingerprints all over it. You set the ornament down, pulling Clark in for a hug. He sighs, relieved that you liked it. 

“You are the sweetest man on earth. You know that Clark Kent?” He shrugs. Clark’s eyes glisten as you whisper in his ear, just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re already the best dad.”

--- January ---

“Clark… you’re still staring.”

“I know.” You glance up in the bathroom mirror, Clark’s large frame filling the doorway as he watches you with a dimpled smile. “I just can’t help it.”

He steps into your small bathroom, arms snaking around your towel clad torso as his hands settle against your bump. 

Your bump.

You’d popped earlier that week, the softening outline of your belly suddenly becoming a definite curve overnight. At first, you’d chalked it up to the restaurant Clark had taken you too. Too many rolls and that large piece of chocolate cake you’d shared. Just a case of too much good food. 

But the next day, it was still there. Your belly peeking out from beneath your cotton pajama’s, your baby finally saying “hello there!” You turn around, your hands cupping Clark’s face as he presses a kiss to your lips. His thumbs brush against the cotton fabric of the towel, right below your navel, where your belly poked out the most. 

“Honey,” you whisper as Clark continues to kiss you. “I have to get dressed, I have work tomorrow.” Clark huffs with disappointment, giving you a look.

“Well, if you weren’t working anymore, we wouldn’t have to worry about that.” You shake your head with a smile, patting his chest.

“Clark,” you drag his name out. “We’ve been over this. As much as I love you and your two jobs, we both know they don’t exactly pay the greatest. And with the baby-”

“I know,” he sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “I know, we need to save.”

“Exactly,” You point. Clark follows you into the bedroom, watching as you slide into your pajamas, the elastic waistband of your pants stretched a little tighter than normal, your top unbuttoned at the bottom to accommodate the swell of your belly.

“You know,” Clark begins, “you wouldn’t have to work if we moved. If we lived in Smallville-”

“Clark,” you give him a warning look. You’d both had this conversation countless times. Moving. Metropolis, as beautiful and lively as the city is, was expensive and not the most accommodating to new parents. Especially when one lived off of a reporter’s salary... and a hero's.

“I know,” he raises his hands, “You think Kansas is too far a commute. But honey, I’m Superman. I can fly here and back in no time. If we had a house, Krypto would have plenty of room to run around, you’d be able to do your laundry in the house, I’d have my own office. And when the baby comes-”

“Clark, we’re not having this discussion right now.”  

“Honey, just think about it. If we moved, you could stay home and rest. You wouldn’t have to be on your feet all day-” You scoff, crossing your arms.

“Clark, I like my job.”

“I know,” he sighs, sitting on the edge of your bed. “I just want you to take care of yourself. I don’t like thinking you’re out and about when you’ve been so tired.” Clark looks at you with concern written in his eyes. He holds out his hand, and you take it, sliding into his lap.

He presses a kiss to your temple, your arms snaking around his neck. You kiss him back, thumb caressing the sharp line of his jaw, the faint stubble there prickly against the pad of your finger. 

Clark’s forehead leans against yours, and your quiet as you both sit together. 

“Just… think about it. Okay? For me,” he whispers. You huff in defeat, nodding. 

“Okay, Clark. I will.” 

You both crawl into bed, the steady sounds of Metropolis echoing as you curl up next to Clark. He pulls you close to his side, hand resting on your belly. 

“You’re Ma was right you know,” you whisper. Clark hums in question, giving you a confused look. “You are such a worrier.”

------------------------------------------------------

Clark was a worrier alright. A patient, kind, and loving worrier. 

“Uh- BLEH” 

You hurl into the container Clark had sped off to get you, one big hand rubbing your back, the other keeping the container steady so it didn't spill all over the couch. You throw up again, spit glistening on your lip as you groan. 

“I hate this,” you croak, throat sore from the stomach acid. 

“I know honey,” Clark frowns, pressing a kiss into your hairline. “I know, it's not fun.” 

“Clark… I’ve never seen you throw up, like ever,” you glare half-heartedly at him. He flushes. 

“Well, I- it's not fun watching you be in so much pain. Or be exhausted all the time.” 

“Technically, this is your fault you know,” you give him a look, hands cupping the swell of your belly, where you could feel your baby moving around gently. Clark takes the container and sets it on the coffee table, far enough where you couldn't smell it and get sick all over again. 

“I wasn't the only one who wanted a baby, you know. Ma always says, ‘it takes two to tango’”. You laugh, wincing at the sore muscles in your stomach. 

Clark squats in front of you, looking at your belly seriously. He leans in close, gently placing his hands at the sides of your bump, face pressed close. 

“Listen in there. You be nice to your mom, okay? No more making her sick with all the rolling around.” You shake your head amusedly, your eyes drooping with exhaustion. Clark brushes your hair out of your face, giving you a soft smile. “You want me to get you a glass of water?” You nod. 

Clark helps you lay back down on the couch, trying to give you another kiss. 

“Not on my lips. I have vomit all over.” He smiles, shaking his head. 

“You think I care about that? You kiss my morning breath and don't complain.” You chuckle softly and roll your eyes. 

“Okay Clark. Just one, okay? 

“Okay.”

“And don't make it too long, or else you might-”

Clark doesn't let you finish the sentence, his lips capturing yours. You cup his jaw gently as he kisses you, soft and long despite your previous protest. 

Your heartbeat speeds up, thumping loudly as Clark’s thumb caresses the soft curve of your bump, his hand resting gently over the swell-

thump. 

Clark pauses, his face turning slightly away from you as he listens. You look up at him carefully, confused in the haze of kissing him. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. I just thought I-” 

Thump! 

He jerks back, face twisted in bewilderment as he lifts his hand, like he'd just touched fire. You smile amusedly, realizing what must have happened. 

“Clark Kent. You just felt your baby kick for the first time, didn’t you?” He sits there dumbly, staring. As if he couldn't quite believe it. 

“The baby kicked-” it's somewhere in between a question and a statement, the shock in his blue eyes glistening. You nod. 

“It was hard to tell for a while, but last night I finally realized bean wasn't just rolling around anymore.” 

It finally registers to Clark what you're saying, and he gives you a wide grin. He hops up, knuckles pressed to his mouth as he holds back a triumphant yell. 

“The baby kicked. OH THE BABY KICKED-” Clark is so giddy, you wouldn't be surprised if he started floating. He looks like he doesn't know what to do, his body moving around like keeping still wasn't an option. You laugh from the couch, watching his excitement. 

“I can't believe it. They actually- KRYPTO! Krypto, come here dude.” Clark pads into the kitchen, coming back with the dog at his heels. Krypto’s tail wags excitedly, likely wondering what all the commotion was about and if it involved food. 

“The baby kicked bud, can you believe it!” Krypto yips with excitement, unsure of what that meant exactly, but Clark was happy. The dog lifts his front legs, Clark grabbing them carefully and doing a little shuffle and dance. You laugh as you watch him, the memory of being sick just moments before disappearing with the pure joy radiating from Clark. 

“I- when did you even feel the baby kick?” Clark finally asks, sitting on the floor with Krypto, his hand resting on your belly again.

“Last night. When you were in the shower.” Clark nods, brows quirking when you giggle. “Actually, it was when you started blasting your music.” Clark's laughter rings loudly, his dimples popping as he leans back.

“The Mighty Crab Joys! Of course.” You laugh too, your hand sliding over Clark's palm.

“Only you could have a child with the same terrible music taste as you.” Clark gives you a look, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles.

“They’re not all bad. And you sing along in the car with me.” You flush.

“Okay.. well that’s beside the point.” Clark just shakes his head amusedly, blue eyes glued to your bump. “Now, can you get me that glass of water?

--- February ---

The Kent farm was bustling, the kitchen crowded with giggling women, the backyard decorated with string lights and balloons, the smell of smoking meat and the afternoon sun heavy. Krypto dodged between legs, watching Clark as he manned the barbeque, laughing at something Jimmy said to him. It smelled heavenly. The salty tang of the meat cooking, the woody scent of the fire; the sweet smell of frosting drifting out from inside the house. 

Krypto knows that’s where most of the food is. Clark wouldn’t let him near the meat. Not yet at least. But there were definitely treats in the kitchen he could look for. 

The dog pads inside, pushing his way through the creaky dog door. The little girls he’d been avoiding spot him immediately, rushing with a squeal and petting him.

“Awww, it's puppy!” “He’s so cute. Hi puppy!” 

Krypto had to admit the attention was nice. He hadn’t gotten much of it since you’d told people about the baby. He still wasn’t quite sure what that was, a baby. 

Kara had called it a nuisance, Clark's Ma called it a blessing. Whatever it was, it made people squeal and laugh, it made Clark smile brightly and you glow like you’d swallowed the sun. It made you eat a lot and cry and laugh; it made you smell different and look different-

“I’ll get it, don’t worry. Where is it-” 

Krypto watches as you stand in the kitchen doorway, nodding as Lois points to something in the living room. The girls still pet him, cooing as their small hands grab his fur. One girl pulls too hard and he whines, jerking away. Now he remembers why he’d been avoiding them. 

“Hey, girls,” you come padding over, your flowy dress hiding your bare feet. “Why don’t you go help Ms. Lois finish the cupcakes? I think we need both your frosting skills.” 

“Okay!” “I wanna frost cupcakes-”

The girls are quick to scramble towards the kitchen. Krypto barks, wagging his tail with gratitude. You smile, squatting beside him, fingers scratching his head. Krypto rumbles with satisfaction. You always knew just the right spot. 

“They too rough for you?” 

Of course they weren't. But Krypto preferred not to feel like his fur was being ripped out. He licks your hand, pressing his snout into your belly. This part of you was the strangest. This was where the baby was. Krypto could smell it. Sometimes he could even feel it; like when you were laying in bed and he laid his snout on your swollen belly. He could feel it moving around, could hear its heartbeat. 

It was strange, but you didn’t mind. So it must be a good thing.

“You want to help me find the cake Krypto?” Krypto barks, nudging you in agreement. 

Of course he wanted cake! 

You laugh, rubbing his side once more before standing with a grunt. Your hand rests on your lower back and you head upstairs, Krypto bounding after you.

------------------------------------------------------

The upstairs of the Kent house was notably more quiet. Nothing but one of Clark’s little nephews asleep in his old bedroom, the soft sound of the pipes creaking. It was comforting. A still contrast to the bustle downstairs.

Krypto follows you into the guest bedroom, the door creaking softly as you push it open. It’s dark in here, a fan softly blowing despite the cold outside. You were lucky it hadn’t snowed that weekend; the perfect afternoon for your little party. Or rather, your quite large party. There were a lot more people here than you’d expected. Family, friends, the occasional Smallville neighbor who dropped by to give congratulations to you and Clark.

You spot the cake immediately, a pretty round thing with buttercream frosting and emerald icing that reads: boy or girl? It was beautifully made by Lois, the only one who actually knew the gender. She was the only one you could trust to know if you wanted to be surprised. Clark had spent the last couple of days trying to get it out of her at work. But Lois’ lips were sealed, the secret hidden in the color of the cake just a few feet from you. 

You'd finally quit trying to hide your bump, no longer living in Clark's large sweatshirts or trying to dance around questions. It was out there. The Kent's were going from two to three.

It made you giddy to think about. In just a few short hours, you’d know whether or not you’d be the mother of a little boy or girl. You tried to tell yourself it didn’t change much. You didn’t mind what the gender would be, only worrying about their health and comfort. But the suspense of not knowing whether your days were going to be filled with tea parties and playing dress-up or baseball and playing with cars was killing you. 

Krypto eyes the cake from below the dresser it was resting on, watching as you turn the glass pedestal it was sitting on gently. You smile down at him knowingly.

“I know that look, Krypto.” He whines, padding around. “This isn’t for now buddy. We have to wait.” 

The dog looks up at you with big glass eyes, a low whine reverberating in his chest again. You smile softly, shaking your head. 

“Not now. We have to be patient.” 

“I don’t think that’s in his DNA unfortunately.” You turn around with your hand against your chest, startled at the voice. Clark grins sheepishly at you from the doorway, his eyes bright behind his glasses. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re fine. I didn’t hear you coming up.” 

“Well you have a lot on your mind,” Clark steps inside the room, his hand resting on your hip as he presses a kiss to your temple. Krypto whines beside you and Clark shoots him a stern look, the dog padding onto the bed with an annoyed huff. You let the cake go, smoothing out the front of his white button up shirt, pulling Clark's collar down so you can kiss him better.

It’s soft and sweet, Clark’s dark curls brushing against your forehead, hands gentle as he pulls you close. Or as close as you can get with your bump between you. His lips are soft against yours, tasting of refined sugar and something resembling strawberry. Your eyes close with the feeling of him being so close, your heart beat skipping as you kiss him. It’s no surprise when you feel your baby move for the first time in a few hours, kicking just as Clark slides his hand up the curve of your belly.

He’s the first to pull away, lingering just a moment, his nose bumping against yours. Clark’s smile is bright as he looks at you, blue eyes bright despite the dim lighting.

“Hi.” It’s just a whisper, his cheeks a dusty shade of pink as he catches his breath. It makes you giggle. 

“Hi.”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.” You nod in agreement, hand caressing Clark’s bicep as he stands to his full height.

“We’ve been busy. There’s a lot more people here than I had expected.”

Clark chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, glancing out the door of the room. You knew he was probably listening to the party downstairs, chattering voices and clinking dishes overlapping one another.

“I know. Small towns just love babies.” You smile, hand sliding over the curve of your bump. Clark stares, looking at you like you were holding the sun. His hand twitches against you, like he was holding himself back. 

“You look so pretty.” 

You flush, laughing as you look down at your dress. It was a simple cream color, the fabric draping down your torso and brushing against your ankles as you swayed.

“Thank you,” you smooth out the fabric over your bump, the baby kicking again. Clark squats down, pressing a kiss above your navel.

“Hey baby. You doing okay?” 

“It’s been quiet in there till you showed up. It’s like they know their daddy’s here.” Clark laughs, looking up at you. His blue eyes are sparkling with happiness, enthralled with the idea his baby recognizes him. Ever since they had begun to kick, your baby kicked the most for Clark. At the sound of his voice, the warmth of his touch. Of course, they were always ready to kick for music, dancing away whenever you drove in Clark's truck or cooked dinner. They were just as enamored with him as you were. 

From the hallway, the wooden floor squeaks. Clark stands quickly, adjusting his glasses as he takes a step away from you. You both smile at the little boy in the doorway, Clark’s nephew yawning as he rubs his eyes sleepily. 

“Is it cake time?”

“Almost,” you lean down, opening your arms for the boy. He’s quick to run to you, cuddling close as you pick him up. Clark hovers close, his hand resting against your back.

“You got him?”

“Hmm. He’s like a little feather. Right Conner?” The boy nods into your chest, his hands gripping your dress. 

“Where’s mommy?”

“She’s downstairs. You want to go see her?” He nods again. You can feel the sticky residual drool clinging to his cheek, his face warm against your collar bone. Conner’s eyes were already fluttering closed again. 

“Do you want me to take him?”

“It’s okay Clark. I got him. Will you bring the cake down?”

“Sure,” Clark pecks your lips before you turn to leave. You glance back at him, smiling brightly with the boy in your arms. 

This would be your future soon. A baby cradled against your chest, a toddler saddled on your hip. You carefully pad down the stairs, Conner’s mom in sight just behind the banister. You’re half way into passing the little boy over when you hear a crash from upstairs, Clark’s cry of surprise following. 

“What was that?” Martha asks, frowning as she enters the living room. 

“I don’t know. Clark’s up there, but don’t worry. I’ll go see what it was, okay?”

------------------------------------------------------

Clark is pretty sure all the blood has left his body. 

He had sensed something was about to happen the moment you had begun to descend the stairs. There was an electric current, a spark of anticipation in the room that he couldn’t quite understand. But Clark had understood as he had begun to turn.

He could see it as his eyes caught sight of Krypto on the bed- the dog who had sat there patiently. Plotting. Waiting to pounce. And pounce he did.

“Krypto, NO!”

But Clark’s words were thrown out in haste, the dog already bounding from the bed and onto the dresser, the piece of furniture banging against the wall with heavy thud. Krypto’s paws scrambled against the wooden surface, losing purchase as he falls…

Taking the cake with him. 

The glass pedestal crashes against the floor, glass shards spilling across the surface. The cake falls with a heartbreaking splat, Krypto wasting no time digging into the mess of buttercream and crumbs.

Clark is quick to grab the dog out of the mess, Krypto’s tongue lapping at the frosting on his snout. He wasn’t even thinking straight, worried about the dog hurting himself in the glass, worried about what you would think when you saw the mess. 

You had been so excited for this moment. Excited to cut the cake, to finally find out the baby's gender. There was no way to salvage it now. 

Clark had never been so frustrated with the dog.

“Krypto! I can’t... you- that wasn’t for you dude. That was not for-”

“Clark!” 

Your footsteps grow louder as you pad up the stairs, Clark’s heart beating faster with worry. 

“Clark, is everything okay-” 

He doesn’t look away from you as you stand in the hallway, your eyes wide with shock. Krypto wrestles against his hold, trying to get to the smashed cake, his whines low and annoyed. 

Gosh, you looked so heartbroken, your face crestfallen at the sight of the mess. 

“Honey,” Clark begins, finally giving up on restraining the restless dog, letting him free to ravage the cake more. He stands, moving closer to you, taking your hands in his. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize he was going for it until it was too late-”

Your breath stutters, eyes wet with unshed tears. Clark sighs, his big hand rubbing your shoulder, trying to comfort you. 

“Clark,” you whisper, looking up at him.

“I know. I should have-”

“Clark.” You whisper again, gentler. Clark looks at you, realizing you were holding back a smile. “Sweetheart, look,” you point to the smashed cake. Or more specifically, Clark realizes with wide eyes, the frosting that was hidden inside the cake. The blue frosting. 

Clark hadn’t even realized- hadn’t even thought to register the color he was looking at when pulling Krypto away. 

“We’re having a boy.” The words feel unreal coming out of his mouth. He turns back to you, your chest trembling as you sobbed. Happy tears, Clark realizes. 

“We’re having a boy.” 

Clark lifts you into his arms, embracing you carefully. You hug him tightly, face hidden in the crook of his neck as you cried. 

A boy. You were carrying his son. 

Everything was slowly coming together. The first time Clark had seen the baby move during ultrasound, the first heartbeat, first kick. It had painted a picture of something exciting. Something beautiful. But now, Clark had a better picture of what the future looked like.

A little boy playing with trucks on his grandparent’s porch, a baby boy who had his curls and your smile, who loved to play in the mud and ride around in Jonathan Kent’s tractor.

You laugh into Clark’s chest, pulling away to look at him. 

“You’re going to be a boy dad Clark.” He grins like he’d swallowed the sun. Krypto barks from behind the dresser, the both of you looking at his cake covered face. 

Clark gives him a look, stern despite the absolute elation he felt. 

“You… are in so much trouble dude.”

------------------------------------------------------

The Kent’s house is quiet now, nothing but the winter owl hooting from the trees, the soft murmurs of the cows as dusk falls over the farm.You slip quietly into the backyard, your coat thrown over your pajamas. Snow crunches beneath your boots, a thin layer falling as you make your way to the small dog house in the back. 

Clark had been quick to get onto Krypto, putting him outside as Lois and you did damage control on the cake. Lois, the quick thinker she was, had suggested piping the colored frosting into one of the extra cupcakes, making it a random surprise. If you thought finding out with Clark was special, you both cried even more tears as Jonathan Kent bit into his cupcake, laughing triumphantly as he held up the blue buttercream inside. 

You kneel outside the dog house, peering in the dark opening. Krypto lay inside, his head resting on his paws. He looked disappointed. Maybe in himself. Maybe because he didn’t get to have a decent bit of cake. The dog looks up at you, his tail flicking with anticipation. 

“Hi bud.” Krypto’s nose twitches as you set a plate in front of him, a leftover cupcake sitting on its glass surface. He inches forward a bit, wary. But when he realizes the treat is for him, Krypto goes for it, scarfing it up in a few bites. You laugh, rubbing his furry body with affection.

“Don’t feel bad Krypto. I know you didn’t mean to knock the cake over.” Krypto looks up at you, licking his jaw. “Well, maybe you did. But I’m not upset. It wasn’t what I had planned, but… it was still special. Something Clark and I will always remember,” you laugh. 

Krypto licks your hands, whining in reply. You smile, thinking.

“There’s going to be a little boy running around soon buddy. Think you’ll be able to keep up?” Krypto barks happily, sticking his snout inside your coat, sniffing your belly. 

You’d take that as a yes. 

From behind you, the screen door creaks open and shuts. The sound of slippers scuffling around and the porch steps creaking follows. You turn, watching as Jonathan Kent makes his way towards you, trying his thick robe as he reaches the dog house. 

“Hi Jonathan,” you smile up at him, Krypto barking in hello. 

Jonathan smiles, crossing his arms as he shivers. 

“It’s cool out tonight. Gonna snow some more I think.”

“Yeah,” you give Krypto one more pat before pushing yourself up off the ground. Jonathan extends his hand and you take it gratefully, standing with a grunt.

“You sound like me when I try to get up from the couch,” Jonathan laughs. You do too, your hand resting on the top of your bump. 

“Yeah. It’s getting a bit harder to get around. I can’t imagine how big he’s gonna get.” 

“Not a lot of real estate, is there.”

“No,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I probably should have thought that one through when marrying a Kryptonian.” 

“Well, none of that really matters when you love someone.” 

“No. I suppose it doesn’t,” you smile. Krypto yawns at your feet, padding over to Jonathan and leaning against his sweatpants. The man bends down, giving him a gentle pat. The wind is chilly as the sun sets even lower, snow beginning to drift down silently. 

Jonathan nods towards the house, his arm wrapping around your shoulder tenderly. 

“You know,” he begins as you trek up to the porch. “Clark was so worried for a minute there. When you were so sick. He called Martha… oh, two- three times a week asking what he could do to help you.”

You stand there at the bottom of the porch, Jonathan nodding to himself as he works up the courage to continue. 

“I can’t tell you how happy I am he found a girl like you. Someone who understands Clark’s obligations. His situation. You’re gonna be a good mama. And I know you’re gonna raise a son just as kind and good as the two of you.” 

Your heart melts as Jonathan sniffs. You pull your father in-law into a hug, squeezing him tightly.

“Thank you Pa,” he sobs a little at the name, “That means the world to me.” 

The screen door opens again, Martha shaking her head at the sight of you too. 

“Oh, Mush. The two of you are gonna cry a puddle and freeze. Come inside!”

--- March ---

Metropolis Centennial Park was blooming with green and pink. The snow had finally started to melt away, revealing the beautiful foliage and inviting Metropolis’ residents to enjoy a leisurely stroll without freezing their noses and toes. Krypto was happily bounding about, sniffing every flower you passed, chasing the occasional butterfly. 

You wave as a woman passes you by, her smile bright as she runs past you, pushing a small stroller. The baby inside giggles at Krypto, who watches the stroller with a tilted head. 

“Come on buddy, let's go,” you laugh. 

The days were beginning to blur together, your apartment growing cramped with the amount of boxes and clothes you were acquiring. Clark had spent a whole day with you rearranging the office room, painters tape marking the floors as you tried to map out how you’d organize the nursery. 

“Okay, but if we had the book case here- and then changing table here-”

“Clark, how would that work if we block the closet?"

“Oh. Right.” 

He was trying, and you appreciated just how much he was doing to help you. 

Krypto bounds up to you, teeth clamped down on a broken stick, dragging it along the ground. You laugh, squatting down as he drops the stick at your feet, looking up proudly.

“That’s a very big stick, bud.” His tail wags happily, and you look at the stick- really more of a broken tree branch. “I don’t think we can take that home though.” 

He whines in disappointment and you pat his side carefully. Krypto recovers quickly, bounding off again to find some other souvenir to bring home. You stand carefully, trying to catch your balance as you find your footing. You smooth out your sweater over your bump, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. 

“You alright ma’am?” 

You turn around in surprise at the voice, a smile blooming on your face as you face Clark. Or rather Superman.

He looked regal as always in his red cape, dark curls swept out of his face. You’re always amazed at just how different he looks without his glasses, the rosy apples of his cheeks and bridge of his nose on full display, not hidden behind the black frames.

“Hi Superman,” you laugh, watching as Clark approaches slowly, trying to hide his smile. “I’m just fine.” 

Clark looks around the park carefully, waving at a couple people who point and stare at his tall frame. Krypto comes bounding back, barking at Clark. 

“Hey bud,” He bends down, giving the dog a pat. “You being good?” 

“Well, as good as he can be,” you give Krypto a look, his teeth barred in disagreement. Clark just shakes his head, standing tall again. 

“You better be good. Or else I- er, your lovely owner here,” he glances at you, “won’t bring any of those treats you like so much.” Krypto barks at the mention of food, circling around your legs as you smile at him. Clark looks at you, his head tilted upwards slightly, and you know what he was listening for. 

“He’s okay,” you caress the curve of your belly. “Just misses his daddy.” Clark hums, eyes flickering up to your lips. He gets an expression on his face, the one you knew meant he felt torn about something. Clark takes a step towards you, his hand reaching out, ready to say something.

“You look beau-”

He just as quickly takes a step back, a little girl running up towards him, a bright grin on her face. 

“Hi Superman!!” Clark puts on a dimpled smile, wasting no time in crouching down for her to give him a hug. 

“Hey there.” He pats her head, looking around for her parents. Just a few paces away you can see her parents walking up, their phones in hand. You take a step away, not wanting to be seen so close to Clark. He notices you leaving and you give him a reassuring smile. 

“I’ll see you later,” you mouth, waving goodbye. He gives you a smile and a nod, turning back to the girl who begins to ramble cutely in his arms.

“Come on Krypto,” you call out to the dog, nodding your head for him to follow. The dog barks, looking back at Clark and then to you, as if to ask why the man wasn’t by your side like he usually would be. You just smile. “He’ll be back later. He’s just… busy right now.”

Superman always was. Krypto sneezes, shaking his furry head, leaves and dirt flying. You laugh, any disappointment you had disappearing. 

“Come on, let's go get some lunch.” 

------------------------------------------------------

Clark stands tall over the washing machine, throwing in his white button ups and work pants. The minute you’d walked into the living room with the basket on your hip, Clark had swooped in, his latest article abandoned as he steered you back to bed and took the basket. 

“It's just laundry Clark-”

“Uh huh. What kind of a husband would I be if I made you walk all the way to the second floor to wash my socks and shirts.”

“I don't mind walking.” 

“You're ankles are telling a different story honey-” 

He digs through the laundry basket, pulling out a lone pattered sock, the one with little squirrels with cowboy hats that made him laugh. He frowns as he eyes the pulled threads at the seams, little holes marking the edges. 

He looks down at the dog at his feet, Krypto looking up at him innocently. 

“Seriously?” He holds the sock up higher. If the dog could shrug, Clark is almost positively Krypto would be shrugging like some half- listening teen. The man sighs, throwing the sock back into the basket. 

He’s finishing up the load, turning the washer on with a rumbling tumble when his phone pings. Clark checks it, brows raising as he reads the email. It was from his secret project, the one he'd been keeping from you for a while now. 

He reads over it, scratching the back of his neck as he sighs. Clark still wasn't sure he should go through with it, but he just wanted what was best for you and the baby. 

Krypto whines at his feet, looking up at Clark with his dark eyes. Knowing. 

“Look, I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't in her best interest.” Krypto tilts his head, tail wagging. “I only started looking because I know one day she'll change her mind. And the Kansas housing economy isn't the greatest right now. And I mean look at this-” 

Clark kneels by Krypto, showing him an image of the “project”- or really the thing you had said you didn't want. But Clark knew you too well. He'd been married to you for quite some time now. Of course he knew. 

You wanted the house. You wanted the backyard and the big living room. You were just too stubborn to admit it. Clark just wanted to take care of you, to give you everything. And he didn't mind making a few sacrifices to make it happen. Even if you insisted it wasn't worth it.

The dog barks with approval, and Clark smiles, rubbing his furry head. 

“I know she'll like it. It's just figuring out how to tell her without her getting upset." Clark pauses, mouth twisting with worry. "Should I be doing this?” 

Krypto licks Clark’s hand with approval again. Clark sighs. 

“Okay. But you have to let me know when the right time is, okay?”

--- April ---

The stairwell of the large apartment building echoes with the squeaks of wet shoes, the light jingle of Krypto’s leash, and your labored breaths. Krypto watches as you pause a few steps below, his furry head cocked in curiosity as you grip the railing, your other hand still holding his leash. The dog whines, and you try your best to smile despite your shaky appearance.

“I’m okay buddy… I’m just trying to catch my breath.” 

Five flights of stairs while you were six months pregnant was no joke. You can feel your son rolling over inside of you, his back pressed against your lungs, little body snuggled against your ribcage. At least he was comfortable in there.

It was getting harder to navigate your normal routine. Ever since your baby boy had begun moving and kicking, you’d had a harder time getting things done. Work was becoming difficult to stick to; it was hard to focus with your baby pretending he was Superman, your bladder the unfortunate victim of his kicking.

And taking care of Krypto had become much more of a chore than it should have. Walks around the parks were a workout, and bathing him in your apartment’s small bathroom was becoming more of a hassle since you couldn’t bend over as easily. 

And ever since the elevator went out in your apartment building… let's just say leaving the apartment was not something you looked forward to doing.

You swallow thickly, trying to find even breaths. 

Clark usually was there to help you, walking Krypto early in the morning, taking him to the Kent farm when he could so the dog could expel his energy. He’d get groceries after work, takeout after he’d fought another alien visitor. Clark carried you up the stairs when he could, sometimes even flying you when he was sure no one was looking. 

But recently it all felt like too much. Even with everything he did. The busy life of Metropolis had become overwhelming. Suffocating. 

Krypto barks, looking past you and you sigh, trying to pull yourself together. You could hear it now, the footsteps making their way up the flights of stairs with a quick ease that made you a tinge jealous. You weren’t embarrassed- well who were you kidding. It was hard not to be when you were red faced and swollen everywhere, trying not to look like a few stairs made you exhausted. You make your way up to the next floor landing, trying to keep close to the wall to let the person pass you up. Krypto sticks close to you, tongue lolling.

A young girl jogs up the steps, hair bouncing, her skinny ballet flats smacking the paved stairs with a speed you could only imagine right now. She gives you a sympathetic smile as you wave at her, more pitying than kind. You only sigh, looking down at Krypto. The dog looks up at you with his dark eyes, head cocked, as if to say “it’s alright.”

It didn’t feel alright.

You told yourself you were just overreacting. You had been for lots of things during this pregnancy. Your hormones were all over the place, and for goodness sake you were growing a baby! Every time you had gotten upset over a misplaced mug, or cried because you hadn’t made it to the bathroom on time, Clark would kiss you and remind you just how much was going on in your body.

“Honey, don’t be sad. Please. You’re growing our baby. You have a lot going on right now, it’s okay to get upset.” You finally catch your breath, tugging on Krypto’s leash.

“Come on buddy. We can do this.”

------------------------------------------------------

It seemed you and Clark had excellent timing. Just as you were sticking your key into the apartment slot, Clark had flown in through the open window, his Superman suit still on. He can hear you from the other side, shuffling around as you try to get in. Clark is more than happy to open the door for you, ready to finally see you after a long day of heroism and getting grilled by Lois. 

But his bright smile falters a little as he opens the door, taking in your heaving chest, Krypto watching you carefully from your side. 

“Hi honey,” he whispers, gesturing for you to come in, careful to keep hidden behind the wooden door. You shuffle inside, Krypto running off as soon as you’ve bent over and undid the leash attached to his collar. The dog bounds over the couch, flying over it and scrambling into the kitchen, the sound of his food bowl being ravaged echoing in the kitchen.

Clark sighs, shaking his head as he closes the door, glancing back at you as you grunt. Your hand is pressed against your lower back, fingers massaging the muscles there. Although you're trying to hide it, Clark can see the way your chest is heaving, like you’d just run a marathon. He can hear how fast your heart is beating, noticing the way your mouth is pressed into a firm line. 

Uh-oh. 

“Hey,” he reaches out for your arm, rubbing a small circle against your back. “You okay.”

You nod, humming in reply. “I'm just tired."

Clark is ready as your arms open for him, gladly embracing you. You lean into him, like you couldn’t stand on your own for one more minute.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You nod into his chest, and Clark presses a kiss to the top of your head. He holds you for a moment before whispering, trying to get you to look at him. “You don’t have to pretend to be fine, you know. I can feel you’re hurting.” 

Your lips pout, body trembling slightly. Not from exhaustion, but from tears you were holding back. 

“Honey…” He cups your face, thumbs brushing the skin slightly. The dam bursts and you’re crying. Fat tears drip down your cheek, and you sob into Clark’s blue suit. “Hey,” he tries to comfort you, hand caressing the back of your damp hair. “It's okay. You're alright.” 

Clark is careful as he guides you to the couch, sitting down with a sigh, letting you curl into his side as you let it out. His hand trails from your wet cheek to your bump, big and heavy as it protrudes from your rain coat. 

“What’s wrong, hon? What's got you so worked up?” Clark whispers into your hair, holding you tight. It practically breaks his heart when you finally calm down enough to whisper back. 

“I’m so tired, Clark.” He frowns, waiting for you to elaborate. You sit up, nose red and stuffed up, the back of your hand rubbing away the tears still leaking from your lashes. “I just… I’m exhausted. Everything is so hard now. Work and taking care of Krypto, cleaning the house, getting groceries. I can't do everything as easy as I used to.” 

“Honey, I can help with all of those things. I try to-” 

“It's not that Clark,” you sigh, looking down at your swollen belly. “I just feel… big.”

“I- well you are carrying my baby.” Clark gives you a look, glancing down at his 6’4” frame. You breathe a laugh and Clark feels a bit better. He always liked making you laugh. 

“I know. I guess I’m just not feeling myself. I miss being able to get myself dressed without getting out of breath or walk Krypto up the stairs without getting looks of pity.” Clark frowns. 

“Did someone say something to you-” 

“No,” you laugh again, pressing your hand to his chest to get him to sit back down. “No, nobody said anything. It's okay Superman.” 

He gives you a smile, caressing your side. “Okay. But if I need to teach someone a lesson on respect-” 

“Clark!” 

He sighs, hugging you close. 

“You are so strong, you know that. You're carrying my baby. You're carrying a half- Kryptonian baby. And doing it beautifully.” You look up at Clark, eyes glistening as he praises you, his big hand covering your bump. “Honey I don't even know how you still get up every morning with this little guy. I think I would have called it quits long ago.” 

“Clark… you can lift buildings. This would be nothing for you.” 

He shrugs, his dark curls falling on his forehead as he inches closer. 

“Doesn't make what you're doing less impressive.” Your nose brushes his as he captures your lips, your hand cupping his jaw gently. 

He kisses you softly, tasting the tears which had stained your face. Clark only breaks away when he feels something tugging on his cape, peeking his eyes open to find the red fabric captured in Krypto’s jaws. 

“I think that's our cue,” you smile at him as Krypto barks, dropping the cape to nudge his dog bowl closer to Clark’s boot. 

You fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow. Clark spoons you gently, your back flush to his chest, his hand gently splayed against your belly. Krypto lays at the end of the bed, watching the two of you in the dark.

Clark felt awful about today, about how tired and stressed you clearly were. He should have caught it sooner, should have seen it this morning in the way you took longer to get out of bed. Or that afternoon when he had called you and you’d sighed at even the thought of having to haul the laundry out into the apartment’s hall. 

You deserved all the rest and more. You deserved to feel loved and safe and cozy. Of course, Clark had the better half down already; he loved you more than anything in the universe. But the latter half… 

Krypto whines, like he knew what Clark was thinking of. The man shifts gently, careful not to wake you as he looks at Krypto. 

“What do you think buddy… should we show her the surprise?” Krypto stretches his jaw, tongue lolling gently. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

------------------------------------------------------

“Clark,” you hold your hands out, trying to keep your balance as he leads you blindly. Clark chuckles, one big hand keeping you steady against your back, the other covering your eyes. 

“Clark Kent, I love you, but if you don't tell me where we are right now-” 

“I know, I know. We're almost there. Just a few more feet.” 

You can hear the sounds of birds twittering, sticks and leaves crunching beneath your feet. 

“Hon, you flew me here blindfolded and now you want me to trek through- what is this the woods? I don't really feel like reactivating my morning sickness-” 

“I promise you’ll like it,” he pats your back, pushing you forward. 

He'd been acting weird all morning, nervous and excited at the same time. It reminded you of the morning you were going to tell his parents about the baby, the secret threatening to spill out of his wide grin and glistening eyes. 

“Okay right here,” he stops you, and you wobble a little, your hand coming to rest over your bump. It's still dark beneath his hand, and you smile nervously. He slides his hand away, and you squint, the sunlight bright. “Okay! Here we are.” 

You blink, taking in your surroundings. 

“It’s… a house.” You glance at Clark, your husband crossing his flannel clad arms. 

“Hmm,” he hums in agreement. 

“You took us to someone's house?” 

“Well, not exactly,” Clark holds out his hand. “Come on.” 

You let him lead you up the wooden porch, the steps creaking beneath your weight. It was quite cute, flowers growing along the sides of the driveway, a dusty rocking chair sitting on the porch, ready for love. The front door was painted a pretty shade of red, diamond cut windows decorating the front. 

Clark squeezes your hand as you enter the door, and you try not to think about the fact he just entered without a key. It's bare inside, beautiful wood floors and a big fireplace greeting you. You gasp a little, not able to hide the smile as you take in the large kitchen. 

“Clark… what is this?” You laugh, entering the house further. He smiles, hands tucked in his pocket as he watches you turn around to admire the freshly painted walls and soft light pouring through the windows. 

“It's yours,” Clark says softly. “If you want it.” 

“I- what?” You laugh, your hand resting over your bump again. “Clark, but how-”

“I know you said you didn't want to move- and for a while I thought that would be it. We'd live in Metropolis and be happy in our little apartment. But I kept thinking about it. About our son and what I want for the both of you.” He swallows, looking around. “I want a place where you both feel safe. Where you don't have to worry about the Justice Gang crashing through the roof or worry about crowded laundry rooms. I want our son to be able to run around the backyard and see his grandparents more often. I want a place we can call ours.”

You smile at him amusedly, his eyes glistening with love as he takes your hands. 

“Clark… I thought you said it'd be impossible to find a house in Kansas now?” 

“It is. But I found this a few months ago. And I’ve already put an offer in.” You swallow thickly, looking around. It was beautiful, like something you'd only seen in your dreams. “I want you to have everything you've dreamed of. And if you don't want it, just say the word and I’ll take care of it. I’ll be just as happy in Metropolis with you and the baby as here.” 

Your lip trembles as you look around, the bare walls transforming in your minds eye into something warm and cozy. A living room with a thick rug and cozy sofa, a baby learning to sit up and crawl. A big kitchen where you could have family dinners, where you wouldn't have to worry about your landlord running behind on the water payment or whether your stove would get fixed or not. 

A bedroom window where you could watch Clark and your son run about, teaching him to fly or how to take care of Krypto. 

Clark leans closer to you, a soft smile on his face as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. You give him a big smile, squeezing his hand. 

“This is really ours?” You whisper. 

“If that's what you want honey. I’d give you the moon and the stars if I could. The whole galaxy if that would make you happy.” You laugh, cupping Clark’s face. 

“I think I’ll settle on just the house for now.” He grins like a kid on Christmas, scooping you up into a big hug.

--- May ---

The soft Kansas morning filtered through the gauzy curtains, soft light illuminating the outline of your bedroom. Morning birds twittered about, the cicadas finally slowing their nocturnal song as the day began. Clark’s hearing was attuned to all of this, his lashes fluttering open as he slowly awoke, tuning it all out to hear the one sound he'd loved since he first heard it. 

Thwump. Thwump. 

You shift in your sleep, the pillows surrounding you dipping beneath your heavy frame. Clark smiles softly, hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. He loved this part of marriage. Waking up to you every morning, excited at knowing he’d get to fall asleep with you by his side after the day. 

You both were exhausted; moving had taken up most of your time the past couple of weeks, packing your little apartment and unloading everything into the new house. Clark wasn’t exactly tired from lifting furniture or boxes- that was a piece of cake. It was more the constant rise in his blood pressure when he turned around and caught you trying to move a box into a new room or when he found you elbow deep in some cleaning project. 

If it was up to Clark, you wouldn’t lift a finger. Just sit pretty with an iced tea and slice of pie and let him do the heavy lifting. 

Clark yawns as he rolls onto his side, scratching his bare chest when he hears it- 

Bark. Bark.

He sighs, closing his eyes in disbelief at the sound coming from the roof.

Bark.

You stir beside him, your hand reaching out blindly, fingers finding purchase on his bicep and tapping him.

“Clark,” you murmur sleepily. 

“I know,” he mutters. “He’s on the roof again-”

“The dog is on the roof again,” you repeat, eyes still closed. Clark smiles, leaning over you to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“I’ll be back,” Clark whispers, throwing the covers off his body and getting up. 

The house is looked like a tornado had passed through, cardboard boxes every which way, furniture gathered in every room. The nursery was half painted- the soft blue walls glowing in the sun. Clark yawns again as he pads outside barefoot, eyes squinting as he turns, looking up at the roof. 

Bark. 

Just like he expected, Krypto was on the roof, his little cape tangled in the satellite dish. Clark shakes his head, floating up to help the dog out. His feet hit the roof with a soft thud, Krypto now whining, pleading to be released.

“Golly Krypto, we really gotta work on keeping you out of trouble.” Krypto licks his hands as Clark unhooks the fabric trapped. Clark smiles, sitting on the roof carefully.

The view was beautiful from up there, the surrounding houses bathed in a golden hue, the green fields dark and rich, the occasional cow grazing slowly. Krypto pads over to Clark’s lap, sitting on top of him, resting his face against his shoulder. 

Clark smiles, patting his back.

“You’re alright bud.”

------------------------------------------------------

It’s a lazy Saturday afternoon when a familiar rapping knock sounds at the door. You and Clark exchange confused looks, not expecting any company. He’s floating by the ceiling of the baby’s room, installing a curtain rod, looking down at you as you organize the shelves of the bookcase.

You shrug, following him into the hall as Clark pads into the living room.

It’s even stranger when Krypto comes flying down the hall, barking like a mad man, paws scrabbling at the door as Clark moves to open it.

“Okay, okay, down Krypto. Jeez, what has got you all worked up-” Kara looks up from her phone as Krypto pounces on her, knocking her over. She laughs, giggling as the dog licks her. 

“Hi boy! I missed you too.” 

You lean into Clark as you both stand surprised in the doorway. You hadn’t expected to see Kara for a while. The last you’d heard from her was a phone call Clark had made with her, just making sure she was alright. 

Kara gets up, dusting off her red and blue suit. She gives Clark a big smile, “Sup’ daddio. Thanks for watching my dog.”

“Yeah, of course K. But-” Clark’s words are lost as Kara glances over to you, her eyes wide as she takes you in.

“Woah. You’re huge.” You frown. Kara was never one to sugar coat things. 

“I- yeah, I’m carrying a baby Kara.” She gives you a thumbs up, nodding. Clark glances at you with a knowing expression, lips pressed into a firm line.

“And you know what, I’m very impressed. You couldn’t pay me to do it. Do you guys got anything to eat? I’m starving.” 

“Uh, Kara-” Clark starts, watching as she pushes inside, Krypto trotting in after her.

“If not, I’ll order burgers or something.”

Clark sighs, rubbing his brow line. “Kara, you can’t just barge in here like this-”

“Hey, you guys want Big Belly Burger? I swear, nobody in the milky way can make fries like they do.” Clark looks like he’s about to argue when you tug his elbow, shaking your head.

“Don’t push her away, Clark. She must be here for a reason.” He sighs, squeezing your hand.

“You’re right. I’m almost afraid to ask why.” 

You hum in agreement, not liking the way she was favoring her right side, fingers trembling slightly as she types away at her phone.

------------------------------------------------------

It was late in the night, the remnants of an UNO game and Big Belly Burger leftovers littering the kitchen table. Clark shuts off the light, fingers gripping the rim of his glass of chocolate milk as he carefully pads down the hall.

Clark passes the guest bedroom, smiling softly at the sight of Kara fast asleep on the bed, her limbs starfished on the mattress, snoring softly. Krypto sleeps soundly beside her, curled sweetly beside her. You're already tucked in bed as Clark enters your room, the covers draped loosely at your thighs, hand resting on your bump as you read your latest paperback. 

You look up at the sound of his footsteps, giving him a soft smile. 

“Hey.” 

Clark slides into bed next to you, letting out a tired sigh as he sets his glass down on the makeshift nightstand- a stack of boxes and his old briefcase. He looks at you, sliding his glasses off.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do with her.” 

“Who,” you ask, flipping over to the next page.

“Kara. She’s not staying.” You hum.

“Well, she’s a grown woman, Clark. She can make her own decisions.” Clark folds his arms, huffing with a pout.

“She’s not making good decisions.” You look at him, laughing a little. 

“Did you ask her to stay? Or tell her to?”

“I, well-” you hum again. 

“That’s what I thought.” You set your book down, setting up the barrage of pillows around you as you settle in for the night. Clark runs his hands down his face, looking up at the ceiling. You reach over, patting his chest comfortingly. “Don’t worry about it, hon. She’ll come around eventually. Just give it time.”

“I know.” Clark settles into bed, his hand reaching out for yours after he turns off the light. You press a kiss to his knuckles, sighing with exhaustion. “I guess this is what being a parent is like, huh?”

--- June ---

“Awwwww.” 

You hold up the small knitted sweater circle of women, smiling giddily. Your baby shower was in full swing, your backyard crowded with fold up tables and chairs, plenty of goodies and flowers. The tables were decorated with little cowboy cut outs, a blue and white balloon arch decorating the back entrance of your house. You beam at the little green sweater in your hand, thumbing the soft yarn.

“Martha, you really shouldn’t have.” You look at her gratefully, clutching the small sweater to your chest. It was so tiny, you almost couldn’t believe your son would fit into it. Clark’s Ma beams, clutching her iced tea, her eyes glistening. 

“I know he’ll grow out of it in a blink, but I wanted to make him something special.” 

“Thank you.”

There were so many gifts. Too many. You were overwhelmed with the love your family and friends were pouring out for your baby boy. Boxes of diapers and clothes, cardboard books and letter blocks and teethers. All kinds of things.

You peer over your swollen belly to get a glimpse of Krypto, the dog snoozing beneath your chair. His furry body rising up and down with his soft breath, paws twitching as he dreamed. 

“Alright,” Lois finishes writing down the last name on her notepad, keeping track of who to write ‘thank you’s’ to. “Here’s the last one.”  

She passes you a small navy giftbag, tissue paper jutting out the top haphazardly. You smile, eyeing the tag, yellow cardstock cut into a small circle, curly red script reading: 

Clark said I had to get you something. If the kid doesn't like it, his loss -K

You chuckle. It was just like Kara to be both thoughtful and complacent in one sentence. The tissue paper crinkles as you remove it from the bag, a small gasp leaving you as you peek inside the bag.  

“What is it?” One of your friends asks, the women all leaning close to get a good look. You pull out the little stuffed toy, a fluffy white dog who looked suspiciously like the one beneath your feet. 

“Oh, Kara,” you whisper to yourself, your words lost as the group breaks out in another chorus of “aww” and “too cute!” You hold the little dog, his bead eyes glinting beneath the sun, fluffy fur soft beneath your fingers. 

Lois sighs with all the contentment of a party going well, writing down the last gift. 

“Okay, that'll do it. Who’s ready for the diaper raffle!

------------------------------------------------------

You wash your hands in the kitchen, eyeing the little stuffed dog sitting on the counter. You couldn't seem to let it go, the gift from Kara too sweet to sit amongst the piles of baby clothes and books. 

In the living room, the chorus of women laugh and talk together, paper plates and forks passed around with snacks and slices of cake. 

Martha Kent pads into the kitchen, her wrinkled hands gently patting your back as she smiles. 

“Lots of nice things you got.” You chuckle, shutting off the water and drying your hands. 

“I know. I think we're set on diapers for the next year.” Martha laughs knowingly, her eyes sparkling with memory. 

“You'd be surprised. If your boy is anything like Clark, those diapers won't last long.” You both laugh, your hand brushing over your bump as the baby boy in question kicks you. 

From down the hall you can hear footsteps, Clark’s tall frame rounding the corner, dimpled smile bright as he catches sight of his Ma. 

“Speaking of Clark, there you are! I almost forgot you were here, son. You've been so quiet.” Clark’s ears turn red as he hugs his Ma, glancing up at you. You smile knowingly, observing his windswept hair and crooked glasses, a faint cut against his cheek that hadn't been there this morning. 

“I know. I figured I’d give you ladies a chance to mingle without me interrupting.”

“Oh please,” Martha pats his chest. “No one would ever say no to seeing you, Clark.” You giggle, nodding in agreement. 

“She's right honey.” Clark just looks at you in embarrassment, releasing his Ma and moving to stand next to you. You don't miss the way he tries to hide a limp, favoring his right side. 

Martha chats with Clark for a few minutes, the man slowly leaning further into you, doing his best to try and hide the fact he was hurt. 

“Okay,” Martha sighs. “I think I’m gonna get myself another slice of that cake. Lois sure can bake.” 

“She can,” you smile. 

“Either of you want a slice?” 

“Uh, it's okay Ma. I’ll probably have some later.” 

“Better be quick Clark. It's going faster than earrings at a Macy’s sale.”

“Okay Ma,” Clark chuckles. His hand brushes down the back of your spine as you both watch his Ma head back into the living room. You look up at your husband, cupping the side of his face to get a better look at the scrape. Clark watches as you inspect it, taking his weight off you and leaning heavily into the counter. 

“Where’d you go?” You whisper. He smiles, shaking his head. 

“I can't keep anything from you. You know that?” 

“I do,” you glance behind you, making sure no one else was coming into the kitchen as you lift the bottom of Clark’s shirt. “Clark…” you cringe as your fingers hover over the nasty burn mark. 

“There was a runaway train in Gotham. Would have taken out a whole building if I hadn't shown up.” Clark’s voice is hushed, his hand resting on your bump. “It looks worse than it is. I just need some sun and I’ll feel better.”  

You frown looking up at Clark through your lashes. 

“You didn't even say goodbye.” He sighs, and you can feel your son kick hard. Clark’s lips quirk into a small smile as a little foot presses against his hand. 

“I think he agrees. I should have said something. I just didn't want you to worry during your party.” 

“Clark,” you give him a look, voice lowering once more. “At least I know. I don't have to see you walk into my kitchen looking like you got run over.” 

Your son kicks again, pressing harder against his fathers hand. You groan slightly, massaging your belly gently. 

Clark squats down carefully, now eye level with your bump. 

“Okay, okay. No need to hurt your mom to make a point, son. I get it.” Your baby must be satisfied with Clark’s reaction, giving one more kick, gentler this time, as Clark presses a kiss to your belly. 

He grunts quietly as he stands pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You wrap your arms around his tall frame, giving him a soft squeeze. 

“You're alright Kent. Just don't make your son mad again. I don't need him kicking my bladder anymore than he is now.”

Clark nods, eyes narrowing as he catches sight of the little dog on the counter. He reaches for it, the animal comically small in his large hands. 

“What’s this?” 

“That is from Kara.” Clark looks surprised. 

“Really? She's not exactly the greatest gift giver.” You laugh. “Is that why you told her she had to get me a present?” Your husband shakes his head, inspecting the stuffed dog curiously. 

“I never told her that.” You frown, confused. You tell him about the tag, remembering her curly script perfectly. 

“No. I only told her we'd miss her. And that if she changes her mind she's still more than welcome to come over.” 

“Huh,” you place your hands on your hips. 

“Hey, does this remind you of something,” he points at the dog. You break out into bright laughter. 

“Clark. You, of all people, should know who he looks like.” The man frowns, the sudden realization dawning on his face. 

“Kara…” he mutters. In perfectly timed fashion, Krypto comes bounding through the living room, the women gasping and crying out with surprise. The dog races through the kitchen, your hands stifling a cry as he almost busts through the back door, barely making it through his small flap. 

Lois peeks into the kitchen, giving Clark an apologetic look. 

“I’m sorry. He got to the cake before I could stop him.”

------------------------------------------------------

It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that weighed down on you, made your heart beat feel like a thunderstorm, made every breath a tumbling storm. 

You stood on your back porch, staring out into the dark of backyard, anxiety and worry clawing at your heart. From your belly, your son kicks to a feverish beat, as if to say “what’s going on mom?” 

“I know baby,” you look down at yourself. “I’m just a little worried about your dad.” 

Clark had been gone for two days. Two days without any phone call, without so much as a glimpse of him on the news. He had left in a rush, kissing you fiercely as he muttered something about the Justice Gang. 

You had simply told him to calm down, that it was probably nothing. 

“They don't just call for nothing, honey. Are you sure you don't want me to call Ma to keep you company-” 

“Clark. You worry too much. We’ll be fine. Krypto makes an excellent conversationalist.” 

“But-”

“Clark. Go save the world.” 

But after almost fourty-eight hours you were feeling less certain. 

Krypto sits at the base of the porch, watching your backyard with a guarded stillness. He was listening for something; you could tell by the way his left ear was raised upward, his wet nose twitching. 

Your eyes scan the dark sky, night falling in steady strokes of indigo and violet. You wrap Clark’s large flannel tighter around your torso, a chill running down your back. 

A flash of light catches your eye, quicker than lightening. You almost think you've imagined it, hope twisting in your chest. But Krypto’s wagging tail and frantic barks confirm you saw it. 

You carefully creep down the porch steps, watching the clouds for another sign. Anything. 

“Please Clark. Please come back to me.” 

Your whispered prayer is answered as you hear the whistling force of something falling, a bright speck breaking through the clouds and plummeting through the stars. You stare wide eyed as something crashes into the outer fields of your backyard, dirt and grass spraying out from the impact. 

“Krypto,” you glance down at the dog, already moving off the porch as fast as your very pregnant body would allow. “Go fetch,” you point. The dog pants, tilting his head looking between you and the crater of dirt now mounded in the fields. He must see something out there because he’s off in a blink flying fast through the Kansas grass. 

You follow, the grass warm beneath your bare feet as you move out into the yard. Krypto barks as he bounds around the mess, disappearing into the crater. From just inside you can see the auburn hair of the Justice Gang’s most stubborn and vulgar member. Guy Gardner dips back into the crater, his voice carrying through the field as you make your way towards him.

“Come on, big guy. I thought you could fly-”

Your heart leaps as you hear Clark’s groaning reply, his curly hair appearing as Guy helps him up. Krypto runs about, barking at the two heroes as they climb out of the dirt crater, Guy half carrying Clark. His red boots drag against the ground, legs barely supporting his large body. 

You hurry as fast as you can, a stitch in your side and heavy bump slowing you down. Clark looks up at you, and your heart breaks-

He’s exhausted. Scared. You can tell whatever fight he’d just been through… it had been bad. Guy helps Clark forward, your husband staggering out of his hold as the two of you meet in the middle. Clark practically falls into your arms as you embrace him, the feeling of having him back lifting a heavy weight off your heart.

You hug each other tightly, his face plunging into the crook of your neck, warm tears already dripping onto your skin. You hold him, not even caring about the fact you were practically supporting him upright, pressing soft kisses to his cheek, hands cradling his head. 

“You’re home, Clark. You’re alright- we’re alright.” 

Clark holds you close, fingers tight against your hips, as if he was afraid you’d disappear. 

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I tried-”

“Shh, Clark, it’s okay,” you whisper, holding him tightly. “Save your energy, okay. You can explain later. I’m just glad you’re home.”

You glance over his shoulder at Guy, the green lantern looking just as roughed up as your husband. You don’t even need to ask what happened for Guy to shake his head. It was better not to. Not yet anyways.

“Okay Supes, let's get you inside. I don’t want you to grill me later for having your wife carry you in.” 

It’s a slow process, Guy and you taking either side of Clark and helping him along. Krypto barks at Clark with worry, the dog lingering on your porch as the three of you disappear into the house. You’d never seen Clark in such bad shape, the man practically folding as he slumps onto your bed. You breathe heavily as you lean over him, Clark’s hand reaching up to cup your face as his eyelids droop heavily. 

“Are you okay,” he whispers and you laugh quietly, smiling softly. 

“Of course I am. Just worried about you.” You reach for his other hand, guiding it to the side of your belly, letting him feel the soft kicks of your son, now awake from all the commotion. “You’re son missed you too.” Clark smiles painfully, his eyes closing as he groans. It only takes him a minute to slip into unconsciousness, his head slumping against the pillow. You swallow thickly, kissing his forehead before padding into the kitchen, glancing back with worry. 

You cross your arms, watching with furrowed brows as Guy rummages around your fridge, pulling out a carton of milk and sniffing it. 

“It’s fresh, Guy. You know that.” He shrugs.

“It may be fresh but is it good? I don’t settle, sweetheart.” 

He pours the milk into a bowl of cereal he’s already made, slumping into one of your kitchen chairs with a tired groan. You sit across from him with a similarly tired groan, your hand coming to rest on the top of your bump. You bite your lip with worry, wanting to ask Guy all the questions tumbling around in your brain. But from the way Guy was downing the cereal, you could tell he was in no mood to answer anything quite yet. 

He finally sets his bowl to the side, leaning back in his chair as he chews the last bit. You look at him seriously, worry written into the frown on your face.

“What the heck happened Guy?” Your voice is hushed, strained. Like if it was any louder, it would break the dam of emotions coursing through you. Guy sighs, running a hand through his messy bowl cut. 

“It was crazy. The call we got said it was a military base whose operation had gone south. An experimental weapon gon berzerk- the usual idiotic scientist who didn’t have the balls to admit he screwed up.” Guy scratches a cut on his cheek, frowning at the blood staining the crevices of his finger nails. “Turned out to be a trap. Lex’s raptors surrounded us, managed to pin us down and capture us. We barely made it out. Almost didn’t if it hadn’t been for your husband’s insistence. He was dead set on getting home.”

You look away from Guy, hiding behind your trembling hands. Guy doesn’t say anything, just gets up with a grunt and rinses off his dish, letting it clatter in the dishwasher. 

“Tell Clark I’ll talk to him later, okay?”

“Okay Guy,” you sniff, finally looking back up at him. Your words of gratitude are trapped in your throat, stuck like a lump you couldn’t swallow. You don’t have to say them though, Guy knows. He can see it in the glistening drops stuck in your lashes, the way your gaze keeps drawing to the bedroom, itching to see Clark again. Guy sighs, cracking his neck.

“The milk was alright by the way. Pretty good… for Smallville anyways.” You laugh, waving Guy out. He smiles, waving. “See you later Mrs. K.”

------------------------------------------------------

Clark blinks awake slowly, the Kansas sun peeking out from behind your bedroom’s curtains. It takes his brain a moment to catch up, to realize he was awake. Alive. 

The soft fabric of your comforter, familiar and warm, rubs against his bare arms; Clark’s eyes drift down at the gentle weight laying against his torso, Krypto asleep on top of him. There’s a strange sense of de ja vu, like Clark had been in this exact position before, a brush away from death. The memory is faint, forgotten. But it’s there.

Clark sighs, shifting against his pillow, only to realize it’s not just Krypto laying on him. Your breath stutters from the movement, the hand which had been laying on Clark’s chest falling onto the covers. He’s surprised he didn’t catch your heart beat next to him- his superhearing quickly zeroes on the steady thumps, the fainter beats of his son following. 

Clark grunts, his whole body still sore as he reaches over your body, pulling you closer to his side. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out for, barely registering the cotton pajamas on his frame, the overflowing can of tissues on your side, empty bowls of soup stacked on top of the other. Your lashes flutter open as Clark cards his fingers slowly through your hair, and he can hear the shift in your heartbeat, the sudden spike of fear which courses through you.

“Shh, honey,” he whispers, shaking his head when you try to speak. “I’m okay. I’m alright. I just- I just want to lay here with you for a minute.” 

You stare with a worried stillness, your fingers moving up his chest and cupping his jaw. Clark can feel the stubble growing there- it had to have been a few days he’d been out. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am with you here,” Clark quietly murmurs, already feeling the aching exhaustion pulling him under again.

--- July ---

It was a muggy Kansas summer day; the sun beating down on the roof, air conditioner rattling as it chugged along to combat the weather as best it could. The long grass rustled outside the window, the air buzzing with anticipation, as if it knew something you didn’t. 

The house was still, sun glowing in the nursery as you passed by, the laundry basked heavy on your hip. 

Clark would have a fit if he could see you. 

You really should be sitting down and resting, but the urge to clean had gotten the best of you. With only a few weeks to go, you'd taken to cleaning everything you could. Or everything Clark would let you. Since he’d been home more, recovering after the Superman incident and starting his paternity leave from the Daily Planet, he’d been doing all he could to help you out. 

Cleaning the rain gutters, moving furniture around, organizing the garage. He’d finally taken up the battle of putting the carseat into his truck, Krypto running around as he’d mumbled and grunted. 

“I can lift buildings… this shouldn’t be so hard- gosh darn it!”

The man frowned and pouted anytime you tried to do anything, swooping in to finish a load of dishes, herding you back to bed when you attempted to make yourself some tea, constantly asking how you were feeling.

As sweet as Clark was, his constant doting and worrying was getting on your nerves. 

You had sent him to the grocery store, hoping to buy yourself an hour or two to get some things done. Like this Superman suit, which hadn’t been touched since he’d crash landed in the back yard. 

You hadn’t talked much about what exactly had happened. Clark had admitted he didn’t remember much… just pain and the same thought tumbling over and over.I have to get home.

Whatever had happened, it was bad enough for Clark to be out of commission for a while. Even after he’d been to the fortress and healed by his Superman robots, he’d still hiss at a sore muscle or an invisible pain. It was eerie to see him like that, so… human. 

And of course, it didn’t help that Krypto had been acting weird. Barking more, constantly pacing around the house. Clark chalked it up to jitters, the dog sensing something was changing between his injury and your looming due date. But you couldn’t help the feeling that something was off. You just didn’t know what.

You pad down the hall, moving in the slow waddle you’d unconsciously adopted in the past month. Clark’s suit hung out of the basket, red cape glistening as you made your way in the kitchen, past Krypto who was currently terrorizing his latest new toy- a little stuffed squirrel who once could have been labeled as cute, but was now no more than an amalgamation of stuffing and beaded eyes. The dog chews fervently, only stopping as you pass by, his nose twitching. 

You set the laundry basket down on top of the dryer, reaching for the washer’s knobs with some difficulty, your bump getting in the way. Just able to press the start button, you begin to load Clark’s suit inside, throwing in the blue costume, covered in dirt stains and scorch marks, his red shorts too. The cape needed some extra scrubbing and you carefully reach for the special solution he kept, beginning to spray and scrub. Krypto pads over to you from the kitchen, his nose still twitching as he watches you. 

You look back at him with a smile, amused at the concern written in his eyes. The dog barks as he pads closer, looking up at you, his tail no longer swaying with its usual pep.

“Krypto, it’s okay. I’m just putting this in the wash and then I’m going to sit down. Don’t worry.” Krypto doesn’t listen and begins to tug on the ankle of your sweat pants, teeth barring over the fabric. You frown, still scrubbing as you glance down at the dog. “Krypto…”

Krypto had never been an aggressive dog. Messy and overly hyper, sure. But lately, he’d been more agitated. Easily sent into a barking spell or trying to get Clark’s or your attention. 

“Krypto, what-” your words are cut off as you gasp, Krypto letting go of your pants and leaping onto the basket, knocking it over. The clothes still inside tumble onto the floor, the dog knocking into the laundry soap and the bottle going over as well. Soap spills onto the ground and you cry out in shock as Krypto bites the cape’s fabric, dragging it out of your hands as he bounds through the air and into the kitchen. “KRYPTO!” 

You cry out, leaning down to try and salvage some of the soap still inside. You look around at the mess, trying to take a deep breath and remain calm. Goodness, Clark was going to have a heart attack when he saw all this. You set down the soap, moving towards the kitchen where Krypto was currently growling at the cape, staring at it from afar. You stop beside the dog, hands on your hip as you look down at him.

“What has gotten into you? Huh, buddy? You’re never this bad. Even on your crazy days.” Krypto gives you a single glance, barking when you try and get Clark's cape. “Bud,” you sigh, “I just need to finish the laundry. You don’t need to worry, okay?” 

You move to grab the cape, barely beginning to reach for the red fabric when Krypto moves, faster than you’d seen him move before-

“Ouch!” You look at Krypto in surprise, grabbing your hand tenderly. “Did you just bite me? Krypto-” The dog just growls and you stare, stunned. 

You almost miss the sound of the front door as Clark comes in, his boots heavy against the wooden floor.

“Hey, sorry it took me so long. They didn’t have any of the witch hazel spray you wanted so I stopped by another…” Clark’s words trail off as he rounds the wall, face contorting in surprise over the grocery bags he was carrying. “I- what happened?” 

“I don’t know. I was trying to do some laundry and he just started going nuts.” You gesture towards Krypto, the dog looking somewhat apologetic at what he’d done. If dogs could even look apologetic. Clark sighs, clearly not in the mood to deal with the dogs antics as he sets down the bags on the table, giving Krypto a stern look. 

“Come on Krypto, outside.” 

Clark moves over to the kitchen’s back door, leading to the yard outside. He opens it, gesturing for Krypto to follow. The dog doesn’t, still sitting and glaring at the cape. Krypto’s teeth are bared now, as if he was holding back from tearing the thing apart. 

“Come on bud.” He still doesn’t budge. “What has gotten into you?” Clark moves to grab the dog, Krypto barking insistently as Clark carries him to the door. 

“Krypto…” You start, worried. He’d never acted that way before. He was a bit reckless and crazy, sure. But never had he tried to bite you. And sure, he could be a pill with Clark, but he never tried to fight… 

You glance down at the cape, a sense of dread washing over you. You think back to what Guy Gardner had told you that night in the kitchen, about Lex Luthor and the prison. You remember Lex’s name from stories Clark had told you, a big rivalry they had years ago. And most importantly- the weapon Lex had used to capture Clark.

You pick up the cape, carefully inspecting the fabric. You can still hear Krypto outside, his barks becoming desperate as Clark carries him away. Your heart beats faster as your fingers run over the threaded symbol, eyes moving along the folds. And then you see it. 

Glinting in the sunlight, almost invisible if you weren’t really looking. A flash of green. Dark, like an emerald, and immediately you drop the cape, taking a step back. 

Kryptonite. 

“Clark!” You’re hurrying out the back yard door, breathing heavy with worry. “CLARK!” 

He’s still trudging out with a distressed Krypto, the dog thrashing in Clark’s big arms. The man turns, clearly perplexed by your raised voice.

“Hon- what is it?!” Clark likely picks up your erratic heartbeat, probably see the way your hands shake because the next thing you know he’s by your side, telling you to breathe. “It’s okay, sweetheart- take a deep breath.” 

You take a shaking one, glancing down at Krypto who eyes you carefully. 

“Your suit Clark. He… Krypto, he-”

“Don’t worry about it. Whatever he did-”

“No, Clark!” You breathe, looking up at him with a terrible sense of dread. “Clark, I think whatever prison they put you in… I think it was made of Kryptonite.”

The blood drains from Clark’s face and he looks between you and the house. It would make sense. Clark’s regression in getting better, the constant aches and pains. Krypto’s agitation, his constant clinginess. He was trying to get your attention, not be a nuisance. And all this time you had though he was maybe worried about the baby-

“The baby,” you whisper, looking down. “Clark, what if…” Clark shakes his head, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. 

“It’s not… I  can still hear his heartbeat. The amount stuck on my suit wasn’t enough to hurt me. Not too much anyway. He’s still protected by your immune system and he’s only half Kryptonian…” Clark trails off, not meeting your eye. His palm is warm against your belly, holding you steady. Or maybe he’s trying to hold himself steady.

“But, there’s something wrong. Isn’t there?”

He finally meets your eye, the emotion on his face surprising. Scared. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Clark scared. And it worries you. The baby worries you. He was being awfully still right now. Maybe he had been for a while. 

You’re kicking yourself for losing track of the last time he’d kicked. 

“Clark,” you start, hands trembling as he pulls you close. “I’m scared.” 

“Don't be. We’ll get him checked out, okay? I’m going to make sure the both of you are okay.” 

------------------------------------------------------

Krypto watches Clark as he hugs you, tongue lolling out of his mouth. He thinks you finally understand, finally get why he had taken the cape from you. 

He knows you were angry at him. He could see it in the way your lips curved downward, in the tilt of your head, the fists resting on your hip. But Krypto had to warn you somehow. 

The house had been off for a while. Since Clark had come crashing from the sky like a star. He’d smelt weird. Different. Not a different like you, a sweet smell that grew stronger as the baby had gotten bigger. No. 

This was a bad different. 

Something that made him tired and a bit cranky, that made the baby sleep more inside you, made you feel out of sorts. Krypto had heard you once, mentioning something about "baby nerves."

It was just too late when Krypto finally recognized the smell… when he finally saw the glittering crystal you couldn’t stuck on the cape. 

Clark gives you one last squeeze before heading back in the house, his face stricken. Krypto pads closer to you, head tilted as he catches your wet eyes. He can smell the salty tang which usually preludes crying. He doesn’t want you to cry.

Krypto barks, nudging your pants with his snout. You sniff, squatting carefully, one hand cradling your belly, the other reaching out to keep your balance. 

“Oh Krypto.” He feels strange. You’re scratching his ears like he usually enjoys, but he doesn’t feel the normal spark. “You were just trying to warn me. To warn us, huh buddy?”

Krypto licks your hand, wishing he could tell you it was going to be alright. But you were just so sad. Clark too. The dog could see it in the man’s face, the sadness he was trying to hide as he walked outside with a trash bag, chucking it into the shed across the yard. From the smell of it, it was the cape.

Clark comes back, helping you up with the gentleness he always used with you, whispering in your ear. Something about a bag and calling the hospital. Whatever that means. It probably wasn’t a nice place based on the looks you give each other. Krypto sure didn’t want to go. 

But he’s quick to follow Clark when the man whistles, nodding towards the truck. Krypto loved to ride in the truck! If only it wasn’t while you were sad. Krypto bounds over to the red pickup, hopping inside the bed like he usually did. 

“We’re gonna go for a little ride, bud. Make a quick trip to the hospital.” Clark pats Krypto’s side, his mouth set in a firm line. Krypto has lived with Clark long enough now to know that was the face he made when he was trying to hide something. Usually a surprise for you, something wrapped in colorful bows and glitter. Or the rare occasion he brought Krypto something home. Like the new squirrel. 

But now… now Clark just looks sad. The man gathers the rope tether tied to the bed and attaches it to Krypto’s collar, his big hands working carefully to tie it neatly. Krypto licks Clark’s hand, just like he did with you. 

The man sighs, pausing as he leans against the truck.

“I didn’t know Krypto. I should have known… should have guessed” he swallows thickly. “I put them in danger.” 

Clark was so hard on himself sometimes. Always wanting to protect everyone. Krypto thought he was a good guy for that. 

But when Superman failed, who would protect him? Krypto lays in the bed of the truck as it jostles along the road, his ears occasionally flicking in the hot sun. The ride to the hospital is a lot longer than the usual trips to town. Not that Krypto minded. 

But watching Clark and you get out of the truck, the man’s hands carefully helping you down, carrying the small bag you’d brought, the dog felt bad again. It was strange. He never felt guilty for anything. 

Not when he’d tore up your old couch, the brown thing he thought looked like an ugly loaf of bread. Not when he’d chewed up Kara’s new eyeshadow palette, or her pink mascara tube, or her comb or- well, he’d chewed up a lot of her makeup things. 

But he’d never felt bad about it. And he didn’t even do anything this time! 

You sniff as you pat Krypto’s head, giving him a gentle rub with your thumb.

“We’ll see you in a bit buddy.” 

“Please… be good dude,” Clark says, his eyebrows drawn in a serious line. Krypto watches as you both walk towards the hospital, an air of dread and sadness following you. 

Krypto didn’t know if he could sit in the truck the whole time. The suspense would probably kill him before he even had a chance to make a mess. 

But an idea enters his head. A rare occurrence, considering most of the time he just thought about squirrels or which of Clark’s shoes he was going to chew up next. 

No. He would be a good boy. But being a good boy didn’t necessarily mean staying….

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The hospital room is sterile, the space still ringing with the nurses words from just ten minutes ago. 

“The baby’s heartbeat is a lot slower than I’d like it to be. Especially with him being so low and it being so close to your due date.

We’re going to prep you to stay, but if baby’s heartbeat doesn’t improve, I’d recommend us performing an emergency c-section.” Emergency. 

It was hard to tell what you were more afraid of. Your mind was so cluttered, worried for your baby, worried for Clark. He hadn’t said much of anything. Just a thank you to the nurse and a quiet, “let me help you” when you moved to get up off the low examination table. 

Now, he was holding the soft cotton hospital gown open for you now, helping you carefully maneuver your arms into it. His face was downcast, clearly listening to the inner workings of your body. Your heartbeat. Your son.

“Clark,” you whisper softly, turning around to cup his face. He sighs, closing his eyes at your touch. “It’s not your fault.” 

His lashes flutter open slowly, blue eyes giving you a pointed look.

“I should have known.”

“You couldn’t have. You said it yourself, the amount was small enough to go unnoticed.” Clark shakes his head as he turns you around again, his large fingers working carefully at the ties of the gown.

“I could have noticed sooner. I- you were doing my laundry and I should have been the one doing it. I should have-”

“Clark.” You say his name with such purpose. A firm anchor bringing him from the brink of spiraling. “You wouldn’t let me blame myself. I can’t let you do the same.”

Clark sighs, his hands pausing. 

“I’m Superman, honey,” he whispers, barely audible. “I’m supposed to keep you safe. Keep my family safe. And I failed.”

“You didn’t fail. We’re both okay right now. You got us here… you got us help.” You reach for his hand, placing it on the swell of your belly. “I know how much you love us. And how you do everything you can to take care of us. You’re right. You’re Superman. But right now, I don’t need you to be a hero. I need you to be my husband.”

Clark swallows thickly, his thumb brushing against the fabric of the cotton gown.

“And as my husband I need you to hold my hand when I’m scared. And make sure you catch everything the doctor says, because I’m pretty sure I missed half of it.” Clark gives a small chuckle at that. He meets your eye, leaning down to capture your lips softly. 

“I love you honey.”

“I know you do, Clark. Now please, can you get me some ice chips?”

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Clark's leg bounces nervously against the plastic chair. Everything felt so vast in the hallway of the surgery wing, so isolated. He was alone, save for the single nurse taking a nap behind her check in desk. 

You hadn’t been in the room long before the nurse was checking you again, her frown deepening, eyes searching as she listened with the stethoscope. She didn’t need to say anything for Clark to know. Something was very wrong. 

Even for the man who could fly faster than a bullet train, the last thirty minutes had been a blur. Nurses crowding your room, helping you get an IV set up, talking you and Clark through the procedure to come, getting you onto the hospital bed.

They tried to be reassuring. But there were only so many things they could say before the words grew stale, just background noise to the growing worry. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but your husband will have to wait outside the surgery room.” 

Clark had to refrain from a few choice words at that. He couldn’t even keep you company; couldn’t be there for you when your son was being brought into the world. It wasn’t what Clark had imagined, wasn’t what he had pictured late at night, when you were sleeping snug against his ribs. 

Despite the pain you obviously felt at the news, you still found the strength to give him a soft smile, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay Clark. Just think… we’ll be seeing our son sooner than we thought.” 

Clark had held your hand till the last minute, keeping his composure for as long as he could. He walked with you as the nurses wheeled your bed down the hall, his tall frame bent at an awkward angle so he could kiss you goodbye. His thumb caressed your hairline covered by the scrub cap, your eyes misty as you whispered an I love you. 

Clark was hyper focused on you, reaching out with his super hearing, listening as they performed the surgery. Sometimes it was almost too much, as if he were in the room right beside you. Clark listened so intensely, he often had to force himself to stop, making himself sick with worry at the muffled sounds of organs shifting and the doctors whispering. 

He runs a hand through his messy curls, fingers tugging harder than he meant to. Clark winces. His phone pings and he’s quick to check it, the screen glowing with multiple texts from his Ma, a few from Lois and Jimmy and some from his cousins.

Ma: Pa and I are still stuck out in Fortsworth. We’re coming as soon as we can. 

Try not to worry too much son. Your wife’s a strong girl.

Clark sets his phone down, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses with a tired sigh. He swallows thickly, feeling the wet warmth of tears threatening to spill. He takes a breath, standing up. The plastic chair squeaks with relief at the loss of his weight, and Clark begins to pace down the hall slowly, sneakers thudding quietly against the tiled floor. 

The surgery is still going. He can hear it clearly now, his mind wandering to you, unconsciously tuning in to your body as it’s poked and prodded, torn and rummaged. The image is gruesome and Clark has to take a shaky breath. The guilt he feels is overwhelming. Isolating. 

In moments like these, it was you he’d turn to for a comforting embrace, a smile. Even a small quip to try and get him to smile. But he was alone. All alone in the hall, left to listen as you let out a pained breath, to think about how this was all his fault. 

Clark’s hand trembles as the first tear breaks free, streaking down his nose leaving a warm and salty trail. He wipes it quickly with the palm of his hand, head beginning to throb with a blooming headache. Clark stands there, trying to stifle a sob when something behind him makes a commotion. 

“Ma’am. Ma’am you can’t come in here like that. And with- this is a hospital!”

“Aw, that’s too bad. I don’t really care-”

Clark should check it out. Raised voices usually don’t mean anything good. He should dry his eyes, put on his Superman charm and make sure everything is all right. 

But how could anything be all right when he was so worried about you. About your baby. 

Clark just stands there, trying to calm himself. His brows furrow as he hears a familiar jingling, the sound of boots clicking against the tile. Glancing to his side, he catches sight of a familiar flash of red, sparkling beneath the bright lights. Clark looks up, surprise written on his face as he takes in the sight of Kara, her blonde hair messily windswept, face still covered in galactic glitter. 

“Hey Daddio.” 

She gives him a smile, understanding written in the soft expression of her face. Clark thinks he could crumple right there, and he doesn’t say anything as he bridges the gap between them, embracing Kara tightly. The sobs he was trying to hold back break free, tears surly staining Kara’s blue and red dress, her hand patting his broad back slowly.

“Okay big guy, no need to cry. Jeez, you men are such babies.” She pulls away, giving him a look. “You’re wife’s the one doing all the work in there. You could at least try and pretend she’s not stronger than you.”

Clark laughs at that, rubbing the tears away. Kara was right. Of course she was. 

“How did you even know-” he doesn’t need to finish the sentence as he catches sight of something over Kara’s shoulder. Krypto stands there panting, paws slowly moving forward at a snail’s pace, fur tangled with leaves and astro debris. 

Clark’s shoulders round out with ease as he shakes his head, moving over to the dog. Krypto whines, tongue lolling as Clark rubs his ears, pulling him into a hug. 

“You’re a good boy Krypto. Good boy.”

------------------------------------------------------

Kara is half asleep on his shoulder, his Ma and Pa sitting across the hall, dozing. Krypto is snoring beneath Clark's chair, half hidden beneath Clark's large flannel wrapped around his exhausted frame.

Clark rubs his eyes beneath his black frames, checking his watch after. It had been barely an hour since you'd been brought to the room, but it felt like an eternity. His long leg bounces against the plastic chair, arms folding as he listens. Still nothing new. Nothing-

He pauses, his entire body going still. There was something. It was faint, almost non-existent. But it grows louder, Clark's breath leaving his body as he listens.

It was a cry. A little wail, fragile and raspy. It was beautiful. Clark nudges Kara's shoulder, trying to rouse her.

"Kara. Kara hey-" She inhales sharply, sitting up with a start.

"What? Huh-"

"Shh, listen!" Kara blinks, her head titled as she listens to the soft cries.

"Well darn. You're officially a daddy Kal."

Clark smiles wide, pushing up out of the plastic chair, his hands shaking a little. His Ma and Pa stir in their seats, blinking with confusion.

“Something happening Clark?” His Pa asks.

“Yeah Pa. I think… I think I’m a father.” Jonathan Kent smiles brightly, standing with a grunt and clapping his son on his shoulder.

“Atta boy.” Martha smiles, clutching her hankie with excitement.

“Oh goodness Clark, I can't wait to see him.”

Clark is still afraid, the worry still etched into his heart. But just hearing the little cry, so fresh and new, is enough to calm some of his fears.

It's a little while before one of the doctors peeks her head out of the surgery, pulling down her mask and giving Clark a reassuring smile.

“Congratulations Mr. Kent. We have a baby boy, safe and sound here.” Clark smiles, Martha and Jon hugging.

“Is my wife okay? They're both okay?” She smiles, nodding.

“He's perfectly fine. Vitals leveled out as soon as we gave him some attention. You're wife's being wheeled to one of our recovery rooms with your son. If you want to come with me, we can get you in a gown and we can see them.”

Clark nods, turning back to his parents with a torn look in his eye. He didn't want to just leave them. But you needed him. And he needed to see you, wanted to see for himself that you and the baby were alright.

His Ma gives him a warm smile, reaching out to cup his cheek gently.

“You give that baby a kiss for us, okay? And give your wife all the love she needs right now.” Clark smiles, turning to Kara as she pats his shoulder.

“Be cool Kent. You're just meeting your son for the first time. No big deal.” He laughs, the tension loosening in his shoulders.

------------------------------------------------------

The recovery room is quiet as Clark enters, the lights dim, a nurse rounding the bed with a bundle of blankets in her arms. Clark is already teary eyed as he takes you in, your own tears already staining your cheeks, your smile tired and pained. But oh so bright.

The green medical gown he wore, a size too small for Clark’s tall frame, swishes as he walks over to you. He takes the hand you extend towards him as he squats beside the bed, his other hand reaching out to cup your cheek.

“Hi honey,” he whispers. You smile, sniffling.

“Hi.” Clark presses a kiss to your forehead, waiting until you pull him in for a real kiss, being careful of your abdomen. Gosh, he missed you.

“They're never separating us again,” he says in between kissing you. You smile, laughing softly as you take a shuddering breath.

“You feel alright?” He asks, looking you over carefully. You nod, eyes a bit glazed over as you watch the nurse on the other side of the bed leave the little plastic bed, bundle of blankets squirming inside. You lean in close, as if you're sharing a secret.

“I feel a little high honestly,” you giggle. Clark nods as he eyes the Iv still attached to your hand, pumping pain medication into your system. The doctor had mentioned how you might be a little out of it. “I’m not in too much pain. Just groggy and emotional.”

He smiles, turning to look at the plastic bed by your side, the label on the end reading “KENT”. He swallows thickly.

“Is this…”

You nod, beginning to tear up again. “It is. He's here.”

Clark squeezes your hand nervously, slowly makes his way around the bed. His heart hammers in his chest as he peers down at the little boy inside.

He was small, all chubby pink cheeks and dark wisps of hair. Clark laughs softly as he rests his hand on the newborn's swaddled torso, his son taking a shuddering breath beneath Clark’s warm hand.

Clark looks at you, amazed you carried the boy for nine months; awe struck at how perfect he was. Despite being a few weeks early, he was well on his way to being the chubbiest newborn Clark had ever seen.

“He's beautiful.” You smile, watching with sleepy eyes as Clark carefully scoops up the baby. He's small in Clark's big hands but heavier than the man had anticipated. "Chunky though."

You laugh, wincing a little as you rub your side. "The Kent genes are strong with this one."

Clark carefully cradles the newborn, his cheeks hurting with how much he was smiling. He takes a couple steps back to the hospital bed, sitting on the edge beside you.

The boy's face turns a bright shade of pink as he smacks his lips open and closed, making tiny little noises. Clark rocks him gently, glancing at you as you reach over and fix the blanket wrapped around the boy.

Clark leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Thank you," he whispers. You smile confused.

"For what?"

"Everything."

------------------------------------------------------

“Up we go. You ready buddy?”

Krypto twists in Clark’s arms trying to see through the glass window. The dog wasn't sure what had happened when Clark went into the other room. He had woken up to Martha and Jon crying happily, Kara smiling. But no Clark.

The man had come out of a new room some time later, a big smile on his face, tears staining his cheeks. He'd mentioned something about a viewing room, someplace to see the baby. Which Krypto had thought was strange. The baby was with you. Why would it be anywhere else?

“Okay,” Clark says, looking into the little room full of plastic beds. Some of them had squirming little things inside, tiny hands and feet reaching up. Clark smiles at them, glancing at Krypto. “Any minute now, we'll see him. Just be patient.”

Krypto twists again, tail wagging and Clark pats his back, trying to calm him. Kara rounds the corner of the hall, arms crossed as she stands beside Clark.

He smiles at her, Kara rolling her eyes.

“What? I’m just curious. I’m his aunt after all.”

“You're his aunt?” Clark asks with a raised brow.

She nods. “Of course. Someone's gotta teach him about Krypton.”

It's just a minute more before a woman enters the room, wheeling in one of the plastic beds. Inside this one is a similar tiny, squirming thing. But as the nurse wheels the bed up to the window, Krypto can see a little face. It's so tiny, eyes closed, cheeks squished against the blanket. He’s scrunched up, tucked beneath a soft blanket.

It takes a moment before Krypto recognizes a familiar scent through the glass. The soft and sweet scent that had lingered around you for the last few months. So that was what the baby looked like.

He sure was small. And kinda funny looking.

Krypto looks at Clark, the man laughing at his surprise. Kara smiles, leaning in for a better look.

“No fair Kal. He looks exactly like you.”

“I know.”

“I can't believe it, nine months in the womb and he can't even have the decency to look like his mom.”

From down the hall, Martha and Jon make their way to the viewing window, smiling.

“Oh, where is that baby!” Clark laughs, smiling bright. He sets Krypto down, guiding his parents in finding the baby. Krypto stands on his hind legs, snout pressed against the glass. The baby blinks slowly, his dark eyes peering out at the dog. Krypto’s tail wags fast, paws moving with excitement.

He liked the baby.

Martha and Jonathan coo and awe at the baby, the both of them choking back tears.

“Oh, you both did a good job son. Look at the big guy.”

Jonathan laughs. "He's practically ready for football season."

Clark smiles proudly, glancing at Krypto who drops to his haunches, sitting patiently. The man winks, and Krypto barks happily.

He was feeling like a good boy.

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extra notes: genuinely, if you read this whole thing, thank you!!! I appreciate you so so much <3 this has been such a fun project for me and I almost feel sad it's over. It was my go-to project for the past couple months and I'm going to miss this man! (I say as if I don't have three other Clark fics I'm working on too lol) if you have any thoughts or comments pls share, I'd love to hear them :)

if you're interested in some of my other Superman works here's a link to my masterlist!

blue dividers by @cursed-carmine

You're looking around like... why are people wearing pajamas to school? why are the jeans so low? why is that girl's shirt two sizes too small but also bedazzled? You showed up in your nice outfit and suddenly you feel overdressed and underprepared all at once.

The cafeteria is its own circle of culture shock. You stare at the cafeteria pizza like it personally offended your ancestors. Everyone around you is eating it like it's normal, like this sad rectangle of cheese is acceptable food, and you're sitting there thinking who hurt these people. You take a bite of the lunch and immediately miss your grandmother's cooking with your whole chest. You start bringing your own food in little containers and chloe literally moans when she smells your leftovers one day. She hovers like a stray cat every lunch period after that.

and then. AND THEN.

You're walking to class and you see it. A couple pressed against the lockers, full-on kissing. Like, in front of everyone. In public. Where teachers can see. You stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide, because back home your cousin got in trouble for holding hands with a girl at the park. You stare for maybe two seconds too long before you physically turn your body away and speed-walk in the opposite direction, face warm, muttering to yourself in your native language about how these people have no shame 😭

The bullying thing lasted approximately one day. A group of smug guys corners you by the lockers, trying to intimidate you with all the classic american bully lines. One of them goes, "you better watch your back," and you literally turn around, stare at your own back like that's a physical thing you can do, and go, "my back.. fine?" with the most genuine confusion on your face. They stared at you, you stared back, they had no idea what to do. They never tried again. You still don't know why they were talking about backs. Maybe american sports are just that intense?

But here's the thing about you. You're so earnest, so genuinely kind, that people can't help but gravitate toward you. You have this aura, this calmness, that makes people want to sit next to you and talk. You don't even realize it's happening at first. A girl sits down at your lunch table, starts crying about her ex-boyfriend, and you just nod and say "he is.. ah.. trash, yes?" in your broken english, and somehow that's exactly what she needed. She comes back the next day. And the next. You still don't know her name. She's told you her entire romantic history. She always leaves saying "you're the only one who gets me." You don't get her, you don't even know her. But you have a kind face, apparently, and smallville is hungry for that.

Your english gets better slowly, determinedly. You carry a little notebook everywhere, writing down words you don't know, practicing pronunciation under your breath. Sometimes you get things mixed up– in the most adorable way possible!!

like the time with clark 😩

It's a hot day, he's been helping his dad with something, and he walks into the school looking fine. Slightly flushed, hair a little messy, sleeves pushed up. You're trying to say that he looks warm, that he must have been working hard, that you have water if he needs it. what comes out is: "clark, you are hot i see."

He opens his mouth and nothing comes out. You, completely oblivious, pull a water bottle from your bag and hand it to him. "here. for the hot." he takes it like you've handed him something sacred, mutters "thank you" in a voice that cracks slightly, and you walk away wondering why he looked so surprised.

Another time, you're in class and some upperclassman says, "i'm afraid it's not possible to get a spot on the yearbook committee this late in the semester" You look at them with so much sincerity. "Afraid? don't be afraid. it is just committee"

The upperclassman blinks. Then they laugh. It's genuinely delighted. You get a spot on the committee. No one knows how you did it. You just have that effect on people😭💕

Someone complains about a test and says "i'm gonna die, i'm serious," and you look at them with such gentle concern and say, "please do not die. you can take the test again maybe." they don't know how to argue with you. They just study harder.

You're determined, stubborn in the quietest way. You learn english through sheer force of will, watching late-night tv with a notebook, practicing pronunciation in the mirror, asking clark endless questions because he's patient and never makes fun of you. He loves it. He loves the way you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating, and how you triumphantly yell "I DID IT" when you finally master a phrase you've been struggling with 🥹

You're the girl who invites the whole gang over for dinner and your mom feeds them until they can't move and they all leave saying it was the best meal they've ever had. Clark watches you navigate this weird loud american world with so much grace and determination and he's gone for you. He starts learning a few words of your language just to see you smile!!

Let me hold your hand when i say this:

You're sitting on the kent farm porch, legs dangling off the edge, your notebook open in your lap. Clark is beside you, ostensibly doing homework, but he's mostly been watching you sound out words for the past twenty minutes.

"Okay," you say, tapping your pencil. "i have a list. Words people say, i do not understand."

"Hit me," clark says.

You look at him, alarmed. "No! why would i hit you? you are so nice to me!"

"No, no, it's—" he rubs the back of his neck, smiling. "it's an expression. it means 'tell me.' like, go ahead."

You narrow your eyes at him, writing something down. "Americans say so many things they do not mean. Okay. First word. 'literally.' People say it all the time. Chloe said 'i literally died' yesterday but she is standing right there alive"

Clark laughs softly. "Yeah, that one... people use it for emphasis, they don't mean it literally literally"

"Then why say the word 'literally'? just say 'figuratively'? or nothing? this is confusing"

He watches you write something in your notebook, a gentle smile on his face. "What are you writing?"

"I am writing: 'literally' does not mean literally. Do not call ambulance if chloe says she died."

He lets out a real laugh this time, bright and warm, and you feel something flutter in your chest. You want to make him laugh more.

"Okay, next," you say, hiding your smile. "'down bad.' pete said this, he said he is 'down bad' for the new girl in science class. is he sick? should he go to the nurse?"

Clark's laugh turns into a cough. His ears go pink. "that one— uh— that one means—it means he likes her. a lot"

You blink. "so... 'down bad' means good? but 'down' is down. 'bad' is bad. two negatives? like math?"

"it's not—" he runs a hand through his hair, laughing. "it's slang"

"American english is not real english," you declare, closing your notebook with authority. "I have decided. You are all making it up as you go."

Clark is quiet for a moment, still pink, looking at you with that soft expression he gets sometimes, like you're the sun and he's just happy to be in your light.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Yeah, we kind of are."

You nod, satisfied, then you bump your shoulder against his.

"You are my favorite american, though. even if your language is fake."

He looks away, but not before you catch the smile spreading across his face.

Kamski’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Chloe?”

Chloe immediately walks over to Kamski, her bare feet making soft sounds against the tile, then muffled by the carpet. She sinks to her knees when he puts a hand on her shoulder and pushes slightly. 

“What interests me…” Kamski moves so he’s standing next to where Chloe’s kneeling. “… is whether machines are capable of empathy.”

He moves so his back is turned on all three of you, and opens a drawer of a side table near the window. “I call it the “Kamski Test.” It’s very simple, you’ll see.”

Kamski turns with his hands raised. One of them is holding a pistol by the barrel, in a way that it would be impossible to fire. Once he’s established that he’s not a threat, he moves forward and places the grip in Connor’s hand. Connor curls his fingers around it on instinct, his index on the trigger.

“What are you doing?” You interject.

Kamski looks over at you and smiles. It’s like you’re proving something to him. What you’re proving, you don’t know. 

He moves Connor’s arm so that the sights of the gun are trained on Chloe’s head. “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor. Destroy this machine, and I’ll tell you all I know. Or…”

Kamski makes a half-circle and stands beside Connor. “Spare it, if you feel it’s alive. But you’ll leave without having learnt anything from me.”

Hank scoffs and rolls his eyes, gently hitting your arm with an air of can you believe this fucking prick? “Okay, I think we’re done here. C’mon, let’s go, both of you. Sorry to get you outta your pool.”

You put your hand on Hank’s arm to still him and stare at Connor. His LED flickers between yellow and red, circling in on itself quickly as he stares down at Chloe. His eyelids flutter slightly as he tries to process everything around him, calculating and sorting every possibility into neat percentages.

“Connor?” You say softly, trying to break him from his trance. “Connor, come on. This is a waste of time – you don’t need to do this. It could mess with your…” you gesture at your forehead vaguely. “… microprocessors or whatever.”

Kamski exhales slightly and smiles. He takes the pistol by the barrel, gently taking it from Connor’s hand. Connor looks at Kamski, then back down at Chloe.

“Amazing,” Kamski breathes out.

“Yeah, amazing, I care about Connor.” You roll your eyes. “Let’s go.”

Connor catches your eye and nods. “I would’ve been okay. Shooting the android wouldn’t have impacted my microprocessors or any of my other biocomponents.”

“The kid’s just worried,” Hank cuts in. “Now, c’mon. We’re leaving.”

“Wait – one last thing.” Kamski brushes past, walking to the far wall. He presses his hand to a biometric scanner on the wall, causing it to let out a sound akin to a hiss as it opens. It creases vertically, then folds back. 

You let out a small sound of disbelief as you take in what Kamski revealed. Lining the walls of the hidden compartment is… information, yes, but not information about deviants. It’s information about you. 

Photos of you as a child, teenager, adult, and projections of what you’d look like as you aged. Reports on how you’ve been performing as a detective. Maps of interrelationships, circles labeled with names and a web of color-coded lines connecting them.

And, on the back wall, are blueprints. You’ve seen these types of schematics before – they’re for androids. 

Kamski turns and smiles when he sees your shocked face. “So it worked. You firmly believed you were human. Am I wrong, Detective?”

You feel a hand on the top of your back, and only barely register Hank shuffling you towards the exit as you stumble. “This is fucked. I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull, Kamski, but we’re out.”

“N-no, Hank, wait –” You dig your heels in, never once looking away from the hidden compartment. “Wait, Kamski, what is this?”

“Just an experiment.” Kamski follows your eyes and looks inside. “A personal pet project.”

“They’re not your goddamn passion project!” Hank snaps, ushering you along with a bit more force. “Now leave the kid alone.”

“Hank, please, I want to see –” You crane your neck, still trying to look. 

“This is damaging to your psyche,” Connor says, taking your arm and helping Hank herd you. “I – we need you operating at full capacity, for the sake of the case.”

“There it is, again!” Kamski laughs. “That beautiful thing, empathy.”

He walks into the room leisurely, like it’s a parlor instead of… whatever it is. “I don’t blame you for being curious. You’re a violent and irrepressible miracle, Detective.”

You struggle against Connor and Hank’s holds as you try to see more of the secret room. “Wh-what do you mean? Hank, let me see! I need to know what’s going on!”

You grab Hank’s arm with your free hand, tugging on his coat. “Hank, I promise I’ll be okay – just five minutes. All I need is five minutes! Please, let me do this. I just need to figure out what this is, then we can go. Just five minutes.”

Hank’s mouth curls into a scowl when he hears the emotion and pleading in your voice, his eyebrows furrowing as he thinks. His eyes fall to the floor, then flick to Connor.

“I highly advise against that,” Connor says evenly, but his worry is betrayed by the way his jaw clenches. His fingers tighten around your upper arm. “Not only will this definitely cause irreversible psychological damage, it could possibly lead to a mental break.”

“Five minutes, Connor.” You look into his eyes. “How much damage can five minutes do?”

“A lot!” Connor says. But after a moment of eye contact, his eyes soften and he relents. He lets go of your arm and takes a step back, his shoes clicking against the tile.

Hank does the same, removing his hand from your back. He sighs and crosses his arms. “Five minutes, kid. That’s all you get.”

You immediately turn on your heel and rush into the room because, knowing Connor, he’d probably set an internal timer already. You hear both Hank and Connor follow you, standing at the edge of the doorway.

You scan the room, then pick out what to look at and what to question Kamski about. 

“This.” You point at a small tablet, showing a muted video of you dancing drunkenly at a crowded party. You’re wearing a hideous necktie like a headband and you get your face right in the camera as soon as you spot it. You can make out the words you’re saying – or, rather, yelling – “What’re you waiting for, man? Let’s party with Miss Page-Three all the way to Disco Ze-e-e-ero-o-o-o!”

You turn to Kamski. “What is this? Why do you have it?”

“Every person moves in a unique way,” Kamski says, shrugging slightly. “Androids already have a specific set of movements. I analyzed the way you moved – the way a human moved.”

“Moved?” You echo back. “What do you mean, moved? Don’t you mean move? Like, the present continuous verb?”

“I didn’t misspeak.” Kamski turns to a paper organizer on a desk and starts to flip through it. 

You exchange a glance with Hank, then Connor. Hank is more obvious with his unease, but you can tell Connor is fretting, too. He just keeps it in his mind, still silently calculating.

Kamski pulls out a manila folder and hands it to you. You turn it over and read what’s on the front. Typed out in neat Courier New is your name, your birth date, and a random date from a few years back – Feb. 21, 2034.

You undo the clasp and dump out the documents on a nearby desk. What’s inside only causes further confusion – there’s a photocopy of a will, a death certificate, an incident report, and photos of a car crash. The death certificate is… it’s yours, but it can’t be. Can it?

You pick up one of the pictures and hold it close to your face. The car is a mangled mess of metal, lit by red and blue police lights. Peeking out from underneath the rubble, limp on the concrete, is a hand. Your hand. And it’s stained with fresh, wet blood.

“Connor.” Your voice comes out weak and strained. You can’t lift your eyes from the photo. “Connor, get over here.”

Connor’s footsteps sound, quick and almost rushed. “Yes, Detective?”

“Scan this.” Your hand shakes as you hold the photo out to Connor. “I-is this…?”

Is this real? You want to ask. Please tell me it’s not, Connor. Connor, please-please-please tell me this is some stupid joke. I’m not afraid of dying, but what if I already have?

Connor leans down a little, his eyelids and LED flickering as he scans it. His face falls as soon as his LED resumes circling normally. “It’s… yes. I found a document containing that picture, but I… I’m not permitted to access it.”

“Okay, but that’s just s-some random wreck, right?” You laugh nervously, trying to ignore the lump growing in your throat. Can androids even cry? “It – it’s not me.”

Connor reaches down and sorts through the documents. When he comes across the death certificate, he freezes. His eyelids flutter as he scans it. He looks over at you, slowly. 

“No,” you whisper. “Connor, it… it can’t be real.”

“It is,” Connor says softly. “Detective, I… I’m so sorry.”

And, just like that, you’re disconnected. You’re outside of your body, stuck in the passenger seat and controlling a video game. There’s a lag to every movement you make. You recall some term you heard in a college psychology course you were required to take – disassociation. You vaguely register that this is what you’re feeling. 

With more effort than it should take, you turn to look at Hank. His expression, shocked and appalled, causes the dam to burst. Your shoulders shake as you cry, hot with misplaced shame. 

Connor wraps an arm around your shoulder, gently pushing you out of the room and towards the exit. Hank pats his shoulder, telling him to “Get them to the car – I’ve got a few choice words I need to exchange with our friend here.”

The car ride was tense, and that atmosphere transferred into Hank’s home. He had asked on the way back if you were okay being by yourself, and you were honest and told him that no, you’re not. He had sat you down and assured you that he wasn’t mad, he didn’t feel betrayed – he just needed time to think and adjust to this new change. 

He had turned in an hour ago, just a little past three in the morning. You know you couldn’t sleep if you tried. That left you and Connor in Hank’s living room. 

You’re laying on the floor with Sumo, his head on your chest and drool staining your shirt. One of your arms is propped behind your head, your other hand absentmindedly combing through Sumo’s fur. 

The silence is only broken by the ceiling fan clicking with every rotation and your breathing – artificial breathing, you suppose.

“Did you go into standby?” You ask softly. 

“No,” Connor answers from his seat on the couch. “Would you like to talk?”

“Maybe.” You trace the pattern of Sumo’s fur, then look over at Connor. “It’s just… I don’t feel like an android. And I have lots of memories. I remember going to Chicken Feed with Hank for the first time. He got me the best goddamn burger in Detroit. I remember finding a Lucky Star bottlecap when I was a kid – the, uh… the ones from that one sarsaparilla? With the blue star on the bottom. Androids don’t have memories like that. Memories from their childhood. Memories that make them feel things.”

Connor stands from the couch, then sits by your side. He puts his hand on Sumo’s head, gently tracing the white streak that cuts through brown fur. The fan continues to click as Connor thinks for a few moments, LED swirling as he does.

“I feel things, sometimes,” he says softly. “But not like how a deviant feels. I have a built-in reward system meant to keep me motivated. But sometimes I’m rewarded even when I do something unrelated to the case.”

“Like what?” You smile up at him. “Petting Sumo?”

Connor smiles softly, glancing away, then back to you. “Yes.”

You laugh softly, your eyes staying on Connor’s face, tracing this new expression. He doesn’t smile a lot, but you’re grateful for every second that he does. 

His brow creases a little, his smile disappearing. “Are you feeling alright? I want to know if you’re… I know this revelation has affected you negatively, but I just want to know of your general mental state.”

You sigh quietly, looking up and following one blade of the fan as it rotates. “I mean, I thought I had it all figured out, y’know? There’s a giant ball, and there’s evil apes. And the evil apes are just… dukin’ it out on the ball. And I’m one of them. It’s basically all just evil apes dukin’ it out on this giant ball.”

Connor tilts his head to the side. “And in this scenario… what are androids?”

“Androids don’t exist in this scenario,” you say. “Androids are too perfect. Like fine porcelain china. They’re for the future. I figured this out when I was young, before androids were everywhere. When there was just a giant ball and evil apes.”

“Hm.” Connor shifts slightly, so that his thigh is just barely pressed against your side. “And what do you feel now?”

“I… I don’t know.” You sigh. “I feel… kinda guilty, I think? Because, yeah, it’s bad. This doesn’t have any upside to it. But it’s not bad for anyone else aside from me, and Hank, to a lesser degree. It’s not death, or war, or – god forbid, pedophilia. It’s just me.”

You go quiet as you watch the fan rotate. Your fingers find the tags on Sumo’s collar, the tag with his name and Hank’s address and number clinking against his rabies vaccination tag.

“Humans are complicated,” Connor eventually says. 

You snort. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I…” he sighs. “I know you didn’t mean to deceive me. But I can’t believe I didn’t know – or at least have an inkling.”

“Shit, I deceived myself.” You laugh humorlessly. “You’re okay, Connor. You don’t need to change to accommodate me.”

“Adaptability to unpredictable human behavior is one of my core features,” he says.

“Am I really unpredictable?” You ask. Your eyebrows furrow as you fidget with Sumo’s tags. “Or, actually – am I really even human?”

Connor’s LED flashes yellow as he looks down at you, his eyelids fluttering as he scans you. He blinks a few times and his LED returns to a calm blue. 

“You’ve fooled my sensors,” Connor says. “And, if I may…”

His hand hovers over yours, which is still fidgeting with Sumo’s tags. You nod as you feel your heart skip a beat. He grabs your hand and lifts it to his solar plexus, right in the middle of his chest. 

“Do you feel that?” Connor asks. “It’s my thirium pump. Biocomponent #8456w.”

Sure enough, you feel a soft thrumming beneath your fingers. It’s not quite like a heartbeat, but a steady hum that fluctuates. Strong, then a steady decline to weak, then back to its strongest. 

You nod again, not trusting your voice at the moment. 

Connor moves your hand so that it’s resting on your own chest, right over your heart. You don’t really make an effort to check your heartbeat but, just like the last time you remember checking, there’s a steady beat. 

“You have a heart,” he says. 

“An artificial one,” you chime.

“Yes,” Connor relents. “But it proves that you’re not like me. Not a full android.”

“For all I know, Kamski cobbled me together in his creepy basement,” you try to joke. “Do you think he has one? Or is he too rich?”

“Detroit is located alongside a river,” Connor says. “The soil contains too much water for basement construction to be feasible.”

You roll your head a little, looking up at him. “You’re too literal. Don’t you have a humor microchip or something?”

Connor smiles slightly. “Unfortunately, no.” 

“Yes, you do!” You laugh and turn your hand over, grabbing his and shaking it gently. “You’re smiling. And you made a joke. A kind-of joke.”

Connor’s smile falters when he looks down at your connected hands. It’s not like you’ve laced fingers with him or anything, but it was still kind of intimate.

You clear your throat and let his hand go, instead carding your fingers through Sumo’s fur again. You can feel a blush creeping across your face. Once more, the room is only filled with the clicking of the fan with every rotation and your breathing. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you eventually sigh out. “I wish I could just wake up and start the day over. But then I open my eyes and the time has still passed and I’m still here. I still have to go through… whatever this is.”

“You don’t have to go through it alone,” Connor says. “Hank would never abandon you, and…” His LED flickers yellow. “Neither would I.”

“You’re weird,” you say softly. “You’re weird for that.”

Connor nods, slowly. “Maybe. But you’re vital to this case, whether you believe it or not.”

“I do,” you say. “Kinda. I just need time. I can see the end, which is whole acceptance, or just not caring. I mean, all the pieces aren’t here, I still need to find them, but still. I get all the pieces, somehow, something else, walla-walla-bing-bang – my android-ness doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“Walla-walla-bing-bang?” Connor echoes, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“I don’t know what it means.” Your eyes flicker to his and you smile at his confusion. “I think I heard it somewhere once. It just felt like the most appropriate thing to say.”

Connor’s face softens and he mirrors your smile. “That does seem like an appropriate thing to say, yes.”

You keep looking up at him for a moment, just looking into his brown doe eyes. You swallow thickly as your thoughts race. There’s a sudden lump in your throat that you try your best to ignore and clear away.

“Connor, I…” You reach for his hand. He meets you halfway, gently holding your hand and resting his thumb on your knuckles. 

“Am I a deviant?”

Are you going to turn me in? You want to ask. Please don’t. Please, Connor. I need you to trust me, just like you’ve trusted me before. I’ll be vigilant. I’ll figure this out. I promise. Please.

“No.” There’s no hesitation or doubt in his voice. “As far as I’ve figured out, you’re designed to act like a human. You’re meant to fool others into thinking you’re really human – because that’s what you were, before. Deviants are androids with mutations in their code. Your code is meant to mimic human emotions and rationale. So you’re just following your instructions.”

“Instructions.” You look down at your joined hands. You shake them a little as your lips draw into a thin line. “That’s what we both come down to, right? Instructions.”

“You…” Connor thinks for a moment. “Yes. But the instructions in you are nuanced, and sometimes contradictory. I’m not calling your code faulty – in fact, it rather reflects human behavior to a tee.”

“So I’m… at least a little human.” You close your eyes, resting your head on your arm that’s propped behind your head. “Human enough.”

“Human enough?” Connor echoes.

“Yeah. My lungs burn when I hold my breath too long. It hurts when I stub my toe and I feel electric when I hit my funny bone. I cry and my tears taste salty instead of tasting like… I don’t know, cleaning fluid.” You open your eyes and look up at Connor, as if asking him to confirm.

“Androids do have optic cleaning fluids, yes,” he says.

You smile and laugh lightly, your gaze returning to the fan blade. “Optic fuckin’ cleaning fluids…”

You sigh softly. “God, Hank was right. This is fucked. An android investigating androids and some… cheap copy of whoever I used to be. And, of course, a Lieutenant who’s slowly killing himself day-by-day.”

“You’re not a cheap copy,” he says. “Typical CyberLife androids cost nine thousand dollars, but custom models could cost more. Personally, my development and production costs total to just over four million, and every new RK800 model costs eight thousand.”

Connor soothes his thumb over your knuckles. “You must’ve cost Kamski a fortune.”

His words immediately go to your heart like you’ve been pierced by a scorpion’s tail. But instead of venom, it’s an injection of sweet feelings and erratic butterflies. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that his whispered words and damn-near reverent tone was intentional. 

“That’s… that sounds kinda romantic,” you say, then remember yourself. “I – I mean, romantic as in, like, the Romantic era? Like, it’s a romantic idea. That Kamski loves his work so much that he couldn’t bear to stop and continued to push the envelope… even if he pushed it a bit too far, with an android replacing a real-life, actually-dead human and whatnot.”

Connor’s LED blinks as he thinks. He stays silent for a while, just looking down at his hand that’s holding yours and thinking.

“You’re starting to act like me, y’know?” You squeeze his hand. “A synthetic human instead of a true android.”

His LED stops flickering and he meets your eyes. “I am not a deviant. I have a rigorous self-testing system to make sure any signs of deviancy don’t go undetected.”

“Okay, okay,” you relent. You glance down to your conjoined hands, then back up into those doe eyes. 

“Did you mean it?” You ask softly. “Earlier. When you said that you’d stay.”

“Of course,” Connor answers quickly. 

“Really?” Your eyebrows crease. “Because it’ll take years. It’ll be depressing. And it’ll be boring. I’ll be worse than Hank. I don’t expect you to reward me or to applaud my every move, because I know that’s how normal people are all the time.”

“But you’re not normal,” Connor says with a smile. “Even before your entire identity was uprooted.”

“Connor!” You laugh and let go of his hand to swat at him, then grasp his hand again. “Alright, alright. I’ll get a bit of the Normal in me. A touch of the Regular. Exactly four grams of Johnny Normalcop.”

“Don’t.” He squeezes your hand. “It would be detrimental to the case if you were to focus on restructuring yourself in a different way. You don’t need to sanitize your personality.”

You smile up at Connor. “So you like me.”

His LED flickers yellow, then returns to blue. “Yes. I enjoy working alongside you as you are. You don’t need to be any amount of Johnny Normalcop.”

You shake your joined hands gently, your smile growing so wide you’re sure you looked a bit stupid. “You’re sweet. You know that?”

“I am somewhat aware.” Connor brings his free hand up to rest on top of your connected hands. 

And, just like that, you know everything would be alright. Nothing would ever be the same, yes, but it would be alright. It won’t be easy, but you just need to move on. Uncertainty is a core tenet of detective work.

You groaned internally, “No, Venom—staying at our crappy hotel watching TV while snacking on chocolate is not a better use of our time.”

Let’s go over this one more time—

“You’re not this spider person you think you are,” said Venom.

Can’t even let a person dream these days.

You ignore the parasite and continue on with your mental recap. Venom was almost—no, they were sure you were losing your mind.

You’re not from around here.

You got into a classic truck crash from saving a kid and woke up in Gotham with an alien in your head.

Fine and dandy, am I right?

It would’ve been fine and dandy—

if you had only been transmigrated into your fandom.

You were ultimately as clueless as a newborn baby when you awakened and immediately saw cops chasing a criminal who was knocking down trash cans, a mugging happening right in front of a convenience store, and some bat with a kid wearing Christmas colors beating a couple of goons on the rooftop of the building you were leaning on for support.

Everything was also in monochrome for some odd reason. Except for the kid wearing Christmas colors.

It was safe to say you instantly clocked that you weren’t in the Marvel universe.

You remembered saying goodbye to the dream of having an upside-down kiss with Spider-Man.

You scrunched your nose at how you had to get used to the pollution in Gotham. The stink and water there were no joke.

At least you had your buddy—Venom—with you.

You were surprised that you had transmigrated with the symbiote—a pleasant surprise, though.

It was relieving to have some sort of protection—and something familiar you understood—with you in this new place.

You don’t want to go into all the details and adventures you and Venom had in Gotham, because it would take too long.

One thing was for sure—you had fun. With Venom.

The run-ins with the bats were pretty A-okay.

You were sure a superfan would sell their soul to be in your place, but when you only know four things—like you—it wasn’t all that. (With the exception of being in a world where actual superheroes exist—that was, like—really, really cool.)

The first thing you knew was Superman. Everybody knows Superman, duh.

Since you realized you were in Gotham (if it wasn’t already painfully obvious from how depressing the city was) from a huge sign on a billboard, that came second.

Third was that Batman is Bruce Wayne.

Fourth, Bruce Wayne is like Tony Stark but more emo.

Fifth, Nightwing fans are Larpers. (You didn’t even know who Nightwing was.)

That was actually five things, but you don’t really care. Venom had no idea until recently that you’re from another Earth or whatever—since you set up a boundary that they weren’t allowed to poke around your mind.

You adjusted the strap of your bag while you unhurriedly walked down the streets of Metropolis. You were only in this city for business (buying comics and manga that weren’t released in Gotham yet).

That business actually brought you to meet your sort-of-new friend.

Clark Kent.

Nope—not the one you know.

The one who went bonkers from the destruction of your home. The one who got a redemption arc recently and is working in a comic bookstore.

Chill guy, am I right?

The two of you met in said comic bookstore, 500 Days of Summer record store scene style.

You were looking over the new releases and maybe accidentally said a Marvel reference under your breath—because that man went dashing to your side.

He was THRILLED to meet you as one of the last remnants of your homeworld. And hey, you were thrilled too, because someone could finally tell you what’s up.

And when he heard you were the Venom in Gotham, boy—you thought he was about to combust. (He earned a lot of shushes and glares that day.)

He basically yapped your ears off (not that you minded), to the point the manager had to grab his attention to assist the other customers.

When you checked out the comics, he complimented you on your taste—and slid his number, written on a piece of paper you assumed he had torn off in a hurry.

[You]

Hi

+67 67676767

Meet me tomorrow at Super Café 3pm

[You]

Ok

And that encounter led you to even more hangouts. Yay to a new friend. He was really helpful, because you finally clocked on who Nightwing is (labeled as “blue weird guy” in your brain).

This Saturday at 3 PM in the afternoon—because that was prime time apparently—you were on your way to meet CK again at Super Café.

Venom usually does whatever they do in your brain because they don’t want to hear your “nerd discussions for nerds.”

They were interested. Sometimes. Often. Seldom.

Oh hey, you're finally here.

Clark waved—grinning already. His dark hair was tousled like usual, and his glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. He was wearing a plaid red-and-black jacket with a black T-shirt underneath and pants.

He kind of looked like a millennial, if you were being honest.

You walked closer. He had picked one of the more secluded tables outside the café, an umbrella shielding you both from the sun. You’d mentioned once that you liked being outside—how you could actually feel and see the sunshine in Metropolis.

“Hi, Clark. Sorry I was late,” you greeted, taking the seat across from him.

“Late?” he said, like he had to process it for a second. Then he smiled. “Nah, it’s fine. You’re here.”

He slid a drink across the table toward you. “I ordered for you. Same as last time.”

You took the plastic cup. Nice—still cold.

“Thanks, buddy,” you nodded, taking a sip through the straw, the cold drink cutting cleanly through the warm afternoon.

He looked proud of himself. Maybe you should order a venti with one extra sweet drizzle caramel latte with two pumps of vanilla extract, whipped cream, two extra shots of espresso, plus a rainbow unicorn smoothie with pink sprinkles instead of rainbow and low-fat milk instead of regular cow next time.

He kept looking around, but he finally blurted out, “You should come by often.”

You were busy taking another long, comically loud sip of your drink.

You licked your lips. “Where?”

“—the comic bookstore,” he said quickly, like he’d been holding it in for a while. “I mean—not just for the comics. I just—” he scratched the back of his neck, glancing away for half a second. “It’d be nicer to have you around more.”

You nodded with a hum.

“True. But don’t you have other buddies there?” You raised a brow, setting your drink down with a soft thunk.

He huffed a laugh—quick, almost disbelieving, like the question didn’t even make sense.

“Uh, no. Not really.”

Then he leaned forward slightly, more serious now.

“You’re the only one who actually gets it.”

Yeah, you kind of—already got used to his weird mood swings, so you just laughed it off. He said that a lot—you being the only one who understands him or something.

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off lightly, leaning back in your chair. “I get it. I’m special. Try not to cry about it.”

“I’m not—” he cut himself off, exhaling through his nose. “That’s not what I—whatever.”

You snorted, tapping your fingers against your cup. “Relax, I’m messing with you.”

“So,” you tilted your head, “what are we arguing about today?”

His eyes lit up almost instantly, like a switch flipped.

“Okay—no, because I’ve been thinking about this,” he leaned forward again, elbows on the table, fully locked in. “That run we talked about? The alternate timeline one?”

“The depressing one where everything goes wrong because people can’t communicate?” you deadpanned.

“That’s not—” he stopped, frowned, then pointed at you. “Okay, yeah, a little, but that’s not the point.”

“It’s a pretty big point.”

“You’re missing it,” he insisted, faster now, words starting to stack over each other. “The whole thing is about how one change affects

everything. Like, it’s not just bad decisions—it’s cause and effect. It matters.”

This guy is really geeked out. You too, though. surprisingly, Venom speaks up.

You hummed, dragging your straw around the inside of your cup. “I still think half of it was just the writer wanting an excuse to make everyone miserable.”

“That’s not—” he leaned back for a second, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to reset. Then he leaned in again. “No, because if you look at the original version—”

“I have looked at the original version.”

“Then you should know it’s not as developed.”

You raised a brow. “Not as developed? That version actually takes time with the character instead of throwing him into a suffering speedrun.”

“That’s the point!” he said again, louder this time, earning a glance from a nearby table. He lowered his voice slightly, but the intensity stayed. “It shows what happens when things don’t go the way they’re supposed to.”

Wow, he is fired up about this stuff. Memories flash in your mind where you successfully rage-baited him by saying Wolverine should be on the Mount Rushmore of superheroes instead of Wonder Woman.

You glanced at the sidewalk, watching a teenager attempt to do a skateboarding trick—only to fail horrendously.

“Okay. You're not even listening to me,” Clark flatly said, taking one long sip of his drink.

You stuck your tongue out at him. “You need to take a chill pill. And we need to talk about something better.”

He stared at you, unimpressed.

“Yeah, dude. Chill pill.” You nodded. “You’re like—two sentences away from writing a whole essay on why continuity is the backbone of society.”

“It is important,” he muttered, but there was less bite in it now.

“Mm-hm. Sure. We’ll circle back to your manifesto later.” You waved your hand dismissively. “New topic.”

He leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed, but he was listening.

“…Fine,” he said. “Pick one.”

You looked up at the sky, as if it has all the answers. Then you perked up. “I know! Comic couples.”

You went on, “My personal favorite is Gwen Stacy and Peter Parker—”

He immediately coughed, loud and dramatically covering his mouth like he’d just been personally attacked.

“BIASED!” he choked out, coughing again for emphasis.

You shot him a look. “Dude. Okay, fine—maybe it’s because of The Amazing Spider-Man movies, but—”

he drawled, “Biiiaaaased,” pretending to sneeze right after.

You ignored him and continued, “Mary Jane Watson is, like, obviously cool too. She’s perfect for him, and we need Paul DEAD—” you waved your hands around. “Okay, enough about that. How about you, Clark? What’s your favorite comic pairing?”

He scoffed, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t give a fuck. It’s just writers bashing each other’s pairs. One run is this couple, the next is that. It’s the same shit over and over again.”

You rested your cheek on your hand. “Yeah… but what’s your favorite pair?”

Clark took a second too long to respond, but he mumbled out, “superboyandvenom.”

“What? Didn’t quite catch that, buddy.” You leaned in slightly closer.

“Superboy and Venom,” he said—absolutely certain this time.

You blinked at him.

“Okay. Wow. Didn’t take you as a rare pair guy, but—” Clark opened his mouth to argue, but it died on his tongue as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed instead.

“It’s okay, buddy. I don’t judge.”

“…You are literally judging me right now.”

“I’m not,” you said immediately. “I’m thinking. There’s a difference.”

He dropped his hand from his face and looked at you—really looked at you this time—like he was trying to decide if you were messing with him or if this was just how you operated as a person.

“...You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, taking another sip of your drink.

“Superboy and Venom?” you repeated, slower this time, tilting your head. “Like—romantically? Or are we talking… like a team-up?”

“Take it as anything you want..” Clark replied vaguely, his ears were tipped red. Poor guy, must've gotten slammed for shipping Venom and Superboy back then.

Huh.. You've never considered Eddie Brock and Conner Kent though. (Yes you know conner thanks to Clark.)

It would be an interesting duo.. to say the least.

You leaned back in your chair, straw still between your lips, eyes unfocused as your brain started connecting dots that probably shouldn’t be connected.

“…That’s kind of insane.”

Clark immediately perked up. “Right? It's nice though rig—”

“No, like—actually,” you continued, lowering your drink. “You’ve got a person who willingly shares their body with an alien parasite—”

‘WE prefer partner,’ Venom cut in, mildly offended.

“—and then a super with, like, pre-installed identity issues,” you finished, gesturing vaguely with your cup. “Thats like, wow. Already tons of problems.”

Clark shook his head immediately. “No, it’s not. It’s—” he hesitated, searching, then leaned forward like he’d just found the perfect argument, “—it’s complementary.”

You stared at him, “Yeah—okay? maybe I see it,”

“Think about it—one of them chose what they are. The other one didn’t get that luxury,” he said, a little bit more defensive.

You clicked your tongue. “Still sounds like they’d argue every five minutes.”

“They would,” he admitted.

You rubbed your temple. “Anyway—point is, yeah, it’s interesting. In a ‘this could go horribly wrong’ kind of way.”

Clark’s lips twitched, like he was holding back a smile. “...Or right.”

You snorted. “You’re really rooting for this, huh?”

And he definitely put a lot of thought in this pairing. Venom groaned, like they were getting something you weren't.

“Also, isn't the age gap big—like eddie is,” you were about to continue but Clark stared at you so dumbfoundedly.

“What eddie—? Do you seriously think I'm talking about Eddie Brock right now—” Clark lets out a frustrated groan, burying his head on his hands.

“IM TALKING ABOUT US! YOU AND ME!”

The other customers glanced at your table, making your cheeks go warm. Or was it because of Clark saying that you two would be a good pair—ugh whatever. You don't know.

“Oh.” you said out of automatic response, then paused—“Ohh…” as realization finally dawned on you.

Clark looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

His ears were still red. Actually—worse now. He dragged a hand down his face again, groaning under his breath. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’ Great. Awesome. Glad we got there.”

His hands were still in his hair, shoulders tense, like he was trying to rewind the last five seconds and failing miserably.

“I didn’t mean—” he started, then stopped, groaning under his breath. “No, I did mean it, just—not like—”

“Like what?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I mean, I did mean it—just..” he forced the words out, “Not in the team way,”

“Wait—so this whole time—you weren’t talking about Eddie Brock and Conner?”

Clark stared at you like you’d just asked if air was optional.

“No.”

“And not, like, hypothetically?”

“No.”

“And not in a ‘cool concept, would be fun to read’ way?”

“No,” he repeated, more tired now.

“I mean,” you shrugged after a second, “you could’ve just said that.”

Clark let out a disbelieving laugh. “I tried.”

“When?”

“Just now. And earlier. And—” he gestured vaguely, clearly exasperated. “You just—keep missing it.”

“Well, you should've been more specific—”

Clark let out a breath, leaning back in his chair, one hand covering his eyes now. “Unbelievable.”

You tapped your fingers against your cup again, glancing at him.

“…So,” you said, casual—too casual, “you think we’d work?”

‘He literally just technically said that, you dumb oaf,’ Venom, once again voices out another unwanted opinion, and you once again, ignore them.

Clark didn’t answer right away. His hand dropped from his face, and he looked at you again—less flustered now, more certain.

“Yeah,” he said.

Great. Because you think so too.

A/N; I am literally taking shots in the dark rn. Plz let me know if i shot atleast one. Reader is based off on this fic, check it out its so good.

Prime:

“You know, Clark wouldn’t have survived half as long if you didn’t help him.” The man rants.

“Thanks… I think?”

“And don’t even get me started on your Superboy. He left you for Cassie, which is beyond idiotic-”

“CAN YOU SHUT UP FOR ONE SECOND.”

…

“That's even hotter in person…”

You stand up, “I’m leaving.”

In an unnecessary show of strength, he puts an index finger on your shoulder and simply pushes down, “Not yet. I need your help.”

“You, Superboy Prime. Need my help? I’m just an eye on the road.” 

He sighs, “You weren’t listening to a thing I said earlier-”

“In my defence, you said alot.”

“They need you, just like I need you. I also plan to use you for your entire worth as well, not just as a lap dog but we can tackle that letter.” He winks.

“Ew.” More to level his ego than anything, “I don’t think you have the right person. I’m just the assistant. So either you’re lost, or you’re in the wrong universe.”

Silence.

He steps closer.

Careful.

Like approaching something that might disappear if he moves too fast.

“…You fix things,” he says.

It’s not a question.

He’s not wrong.

You’ve become the ‘fixer’ for your little family.

Ensuring your little ‘family’s’ lives stay normal when they land. 

A jack of all trades, a healer, the lawyer, the guide, the incase of emergencies button.

Your fingers twitch toward the emergency beacon in your pocket out of habit. “Among other things.”

Another step.

Now he’s close enough that you can see it

the problem

His problem

He is falling apart at the seams.

He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

His hair is a mess

His suit is threadbarren in some spots.

From a distance he looks fine, but up close, you start to realize why he took you here.

“You’re breaking down.” You whisper.

He shrugs, “Never completely fallen apart.”

Your head tilts, staring at him intently, “For multiple reasons, I doubt that.”

“…If I did,” he says slowly, “you wouldn’t be able to fix it.”

You meet his gaze.

Steady.

“Maybe not,” you admit.

Then, softer-

“But I’d try.”

Something in his expression falters.

Just for a second.

Like a crack forming in glass that’s never been touched before.

You might not be all that he seems to think of you, but you are not about to let another super fall apart.

Especially not one who wants you around. 

He smiles, bright and excited, “I knew I’d get you to like me. It’s just like when Superman contacted you for the first time-”

You’re sweet, you’re hilarious, and you have this smile that makes people stop mid-sentence. Like, genuinely forget what they were saying. Clark kent definitely experiences this. He tries to play it cool, but around you, he’s suddenly forgetting how to form full sentences. He’s nervous in the best way, always holding doors open and making sure you have a seat, always accidentally showing up wherever you are 🥹

Ramadan comes around, and you casually mention you’re fasting. Next thing you know, the whole gang, clark, chloe, pete, lana, even lex (before things got weird) is trying to fast with you. They don’t fully get it, but they’re so supportive it’s almost embarrassing. Chloe brings you dates and does research on suhoor meals. Pete loudly announces at lunch that he’s “doing it for solidarity.” and clark sits with you every lunch period, quietly eating nothing, pretending he’s not hungry.

By the time eid rolls around, they’re more excited than you are. Chloe and Lana already planned a whole celebration with henna and food, pete’s made an eid playlist that’s somehow half nasheeds and half 50 cent (😭..), and clark shows up with a small, thoughtful gift. You’re standing there, blushing, while they all cheer like you just won an award, and clark is just looking at you with that soft, nervous smile.

And through it all, you’re just being you, praying when things get weird, laughing with your whole chest, smelling incredible. You're a sweetheart, truly. You're the one making everyone feel included, and you've got this humor that catches them all off guard. They adore you so much.

Eid mubarak to you! Because representation matters, and smallville is better with you in it 🌸🫶🏼

(credits on those pink banners: @puppizai💕, pictures pinterest!)

“Yeah…Yeah. ‘M listening.” You whisper, your voice carrying familiarity that you don’t quite recognise yet. You take a moment to note your surroundings. It’s an apartment, not one you recognise, and you were sitting at the kitchen counter, eating waffles. The last thing you remember was…Red Hood. You were patrolling. You smelled something funny but he insisted it was nothing…till you fainted in his arms.

“I mean it’s not that shocking, right?” The man says, “You’re part of the family now.” His voice trails into silence after noting your expression. “Sweetheart? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He asks immediately, you weren’t even looking him in the eye. “Yeah. Just, uh, still sleepy.”

It wasn’t too hard to put a story together, after years of donning a mask, it’d be concerning if you couldn’t. You knew this man, obviously, you were comfortable enough and trusted him enough to be eating breakfast with him with no weapons on your person. You’d slept here, judging by the fact you didn’t recognise your clothes nor were they your style, a worn out wonder-woman tshirt.

“I’m sorry…Babe. What’s not that shocking?” You put up your best smile, pushing your food around with your fork. You’re involved with him romantically, his use of endearing nicknames, seeing you didn’t know his name, easiest way to refer to him was also with endearments.

The man takes a few moments to observe you, till he accepts your half-hearted excuse. “Family dinner.” He starts. “So, as I was saying, Bruce wants you to be there. You don’t have to, but…” He pauses, giving you his own why smile. “It’d be nice to have my girl there.”

My girl. That’s certainly nice to hear.

“I…I’d love to.” You really need to get out of here. You might not want to, it’s quite homey but…you have no idea where you are. “Really?” A genuine smile crosses the man’s face, you nod is respond, mirroring his smile.

“That’s great. I’ll let Alfred know. I love you.” He rounds the counter, he comes closer, smelling of faintly of a concoction of gunpowder, sweat and cologne as he presses a casual kiss to your temple. “Love you.” You whisper back meekly, reaching and taking a sip of water.

The man moves to walk off somewhere behind you, into the apartment when you see it. There’s a photo frame, previously blocked by the man’s frame. It’s the two of you, at some fancy event, you in a silk dress and him in a suit. But more importantly, two names were printed on the the bottom of said photo. Your name, followed by ‘& Jason.’

“So.” He calls out, “Wanna hop in the shower w'me?” His voice echos softly from the other room. You don’t answer. There’s a few beats of silence before you call back out his name. “Jason?”

There’s some scuffling that you hear before the man—Jason, appears in the doorway, yet again looking confused and concerned. “Okay. Seriously. What’s wrong? You only call me Jason when you’re angry with me.” He leans against the doorway, crossing his arm, making you notice scars you didn’t see on them before.

You put on your best smile, standing up. “No. No, nothing. I just…need some fresh air.” You speed-walk past him, somehow knowing your way through the apartment. “Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” He follows you as you bee-line to the front door, out of the apartment.

“Nothing, nothing at all. I just—“

You catch a singular glimpse of a calendar, dates stricken down till what you assume is this day, a year into the future than when you fainted on patrol. You reach the door, wrenching it open, the moment your leg steps on the other side of the pedestal, you wake up gasping.

Your body moves without your violation, immediately trying to rip the mask covering the entirety of your head. The change of scenery jars you again, your consciousness swimming with the black spots appearing in your vision. You just lie there, in the filth of Gotham’s street as you catch your breath, letting your heartbeat return to normal as your sweat substitutes for glue as your hair sticks to your face.

The sky above you looks dystopian, much like the city itself, the roofs of the abandoned warehouses around you jut into your eyeline, electrical wires crisscrossing in the sky, all will the background of a sky darkened by clouds.

Your neurons start firing quick, reality rushing back to you, as you put the pieces together. You heave yourself up, trying to blink away wave of blurriness in york vision that comes with the movement. “Red Hood?” You croak out, your throat feeling rough. Whatever you were hit was draining every bit of life force from you.

It’s when you finally sit up on your knees when you can see him clearly, the large man is also passed out a few feet away from you. You crawl to him with the energy you have, the adrenaline starting to kick in. “Red Hood?” You say again, a little louder, your fingers going to check his pulse. It’s slow, dangerously slow, but it’s there, his heart is beating.

“Shit. Wake up, Red. C’mon.” You move to position yourself next to his shoulder, your fingers going to the creases in his helmet, you’d never seen it taking it off so you trying to hopefully find the trigger to open it, running your fingers, pressing and prodding hurriedly until something finally clicks and—

Jason?

The helmet hisses as the front plate of it lifts off of his face and moves to the crown of his head. It’s man, from whatever vision you just had, who was going to take you to his goddamn family dinner. Red Hood was the man in your vision.

You don’t take too long to dwell on the revelation before gently slapping his face. “Red Hood! Hey! Wake up!” You try shaking his shoulders too, his body being warm under your palm gives you some comfort, “Red Hood!” You bang your hands against his chest too.

“Jason! Wake up!” That seems to break the spell as his eyes fly wide open, his mouth opening to take a clumsy breath as you let out a sigh of relief, your head clasps onto his hard chest against the Red Hood insignia, the exhaustion catching up to you. He seems to go through the same motions as you, the confusion, the weakness.

There’s a few moments of silence between the two of you, only distant traffic as the both of you just try and catch your breaths. “Are you okay?” He croaks out, his voice also rough like yours, a hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, slightly pushing you off him.

You lift your head sluggishly, leaning over his body and making sure he can see your face and partly your costume. You finally get a chance to actually look at him. Red Hood—Jason, the loving man from your vision, is undoubtedly handsome, lesser scars on his face from your vision, leading you to believe he sustains a few over the years.

You can see him blink rigorously, before you can see his bright eyes come into focus and fixate on you. He says your name, causing your face to scrunch up in confusion. “How do you know my name?” It’s the first time he’s seen you without your mask, he shouldn’t know your name.

“You—You were—We were just in my kitchen, in my apartment—” A cold chill washes down your spine, realisation clears your brain as the dots connect. “Family dinner? With—” You shut your eyes, beckoning the name he used in the vision to come back to you. “Bruce?”

“How—How did you know that?” Red Hood asks as he pushes the helmet off his head completely, resting his head down, shutting his eyes to catch his breath properly. When he opens them again, you can see his eyes roaming all over your face, down to your suit, like he’s trying to make sure it’s you.

“I think we had the same vision. A vision from a year in the future.” His hand, the one on the side of him where you were sitting was outstretched, and you collapsed on it from the adrenaline crash, his forearm pressing against your shoulder blades. You should be concerned about someone see the two of you, him without the helmet and your mask thrown somewhere.

“What?” His voice breaks as you cough, cold breeze caressing your face as you try to get your body to relax.

Your cough ends in a soft chuckle. “Hey, boyfriend. I think. Future boyfriend.” You joke, turning your head to look at him with a tired smile but he’s already looking at you, studying you. He mirrors your smile, the exhaustion bringing both your guards down.

“You do look good in my Wonder Woman t-shirt.” He teases, having the both of you to laugh out rough laughs in a random alley with no one else around, holding information about the future you don’t know what to do with.

ᯓ★'s P.S. okay hi but did you notice the difference in reactions because for jason, it’s his apartment so he’s a little bit chiller, reader is in a place unknown to her completely soooo a little bit more panic

don't forget to comment to reblog if you enjoyed!

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