Chapter Text
Chapter 2: Settling In
Clark
The smell of my mum’s world famous tomato soup wafts through the house. Dad has the news on, murmuring comments under his breath. (Just like he’s done every night since I was old enough to remember.) I can hear the cows and chickens going about their business. The smell of dirt and nature and something that is uniquely my childhood home fills my senses. I should be completely calm, relaxed in a way only the Kent Farm can make me. I’ve missed this place and my parents. The sound of running water hitting skin and Conner’s wondrous noises stop me from fully appreciating the peace of home.
Kadmis explained a lot to the kid in their weird, mind control, homeschool alternative, but they neglected to teach him how to use a shower. Thus a few (awkward) minutes were spent teaching Conner how to properly wash. Everytime the warm water hit his skin Conner’s eyes would widen, the new sentention feeling amazing on his hands. I was basically thrown out of the bathroom after I finished showing him the conditioner.
Now, instead of catching up with my mom (I call her twice a week. We’d be gossiping.) or watching the news with my dad (Anytime one of my stories is aired he gets really excited and calls to see if I’ve seen it yet.) I’m pacing the length of the dining room. I was dispatched to set the table for dinner, but I got distracted by an existential crisis. Somehow, I’ve gained a child. No, wait, we know how. My DNA was stolen and a clone created (very Bond villain), but that doesn’t change the fact I have an adolescent counting on me to care for him.
That only leaves one problem, how on earth do you take care of a kid? Conner will need to go to school, obviously, so I’ll need to adopt him. I wonder if there’s a clause in the adoption laws for illegally bred clones because otherwise I don’t know how to explain his sudden appearance. Bruce can probably help with that, (he has a literal army of lawyers), I’ll call him in the morning. I have a studio apartment, meaning only one bedroom, so I’ll have to get a new place. Maybe somewhere with a big backyard. I used to love playing outside when I was a kid. (Oooooh we could get a dog!) Mum has already offered to let us stay here for as long as we need, so that’s the next few weeks taken care of.
Parenting books, I can get parenting books. Although I’m pretty sure there isn’t one for four-hour-olds stuck in a sixteen-year-olds body. (Or a ‘How Do Help Your Newly Acquired Kid Deal With The Fact That They Are A Clone’.) I wonder if therapy is a good idea, but first I’d have to explain what therapy is. Doctor! He’ll need to see a doctor. Luckily we have plenty of qualified people in the League. Gods above, there is so much to do. How on earth do you take care of a kid?
“Clark, sweetheart, stop pacing,” Mum orders kindly, walking into the dinning room with a big bowl of soup. I rush over to help her, but she waves me away, sending a pointed glance at the plates still clutched in my hands. (Opps, caught red handed. Time to pretend I’ve been setting the table this whole time.) “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Mum, I don’t know how to do this,” I utter, the words spilling out now that someone’s asked. “I don't know how to be a dad, or brother, or whatever it is I am to that boy! I already feel like I’m messing up and I haven’t even hit the five hour mark yet.”
“Darling, being a parent, or an older brother, isn’t an exact science,” Mum confesses, a gentle look on her face. “You are going to make mistakes, you’re going to fight and cry and scream at each other. The important thing is that you try your best every day. You have to wake up ready to forgive and ready to plead for forgiveness. You have to be patient and kind. You have to love him. Clark, all you have to do is love that boy with all your heart and try your best.”
“I can’t decide if you just made it sound easy or monumentally hard,” I tell her, and we share a laugh. “A little warning would have been nice though.” (Maybe a postcard saying, ‘We’re making a clone with your DNA, sincerely Kadmis’.)
“I wouldn’t have minded a forewarning before an alien spacecraft crash landed on our barn, as well,” Mum agrees humously, and point. “But that unannounced surprise brought us you, and I wouldn’t change that for the world.”
“Thanks mum,” I whisper, pulling her into a hug. She cups my face when we break apart, rubbing little circles under my eyes.
“Anytime darling,” she promises, her voice dripping in kindness. “Now why don’t you go check on your boy while I shepherd your father to the table.”
The shower has stopped running by the time I make it to the stairs. Mum set Conner up in the room beside my own. It’s a guest room my mum designed so there’s lots of floral print and pastels. (Not exactly a teenage boy’s dream room.) I have plans to take Conner shopping later this week. He needs clothes that aren’t hand-me downs and he needs a room makeover. If not for the guest room than for inspiration for his room in our future house (with a big backyard and a dog).
Conner’s door is cracked open and I find him half dressed in a pair of sweats slumped against a wall. He has tears running down from his eyes and looks thoroughly confused about the salty water on his cheeks. I have a momentary panic attack (Did someone hurt him!?!?!) before I realize, super hearing. Duh.
“Hey bud,” I greet quietly, sitting down beside him. I hesitate a second before placing an arm around his shoulders, but he immediately leans in so I think I made the right choice. “How much of that did you overhear?”
“A-all of it,” he hiccups, his face buried in my neck. “I don’t wanna be a burden. I can just-t go.”
“None of that now, little one,” I coo, pulling him into a proper hug. “You were a bit of a surprise, sure, but I’ve found you now and I don’t plan on letting anything take you away.”
“But y-you said-'' Conner tries to say before the tears get the best of him. I patiently wait him out. When you calms he continues. “They didn’t ask before creating me. I’m not your responsibility.”
“Bud, this family has practiced weird child acquisition long before you came along. I mean I literally fell from the sky and landed on my mom and dad’s barn,” I respond, grinning wryly at him. Conner huffs a laugh at that, bashfully returning the grin. “You aren’t all that special, and if you think I have the guts to deprive Martha Kent of her first grandchild, you are sorely mistaken.”
Conner laughs full out at that, and I join him. He stands up, pulling out of the hug, to finish dressing. I found him an old Smallville High sweatshirt and a black t-shirt. It will have to do till we can go shopping.
“Why are my eyes wet?” Conner asks, touching a curious hand to his face. (My wish for that completely pain free chat with the Kadmis scientists remains.)
“You were crying,” I explain, amending my list of needed parenting books to include one on explaining emotions. “Sometimes, when your emotions are too big for your body to handle, it will make you cry to relieve some pressure. It’s a totally normal bodily function. You should never be ashamed to cry and you shouldn’t try to hold the tears back if they want to come. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you differently. Crying is perfectly acceptable.”
“Why are some people ashamed to cry?” Conner questions, an adorably confused expression on his face. (Seriously, how am I ever going to say no to that face?)
“They were taught its unmanly, or some other similar nonsense,” I answer, trying to explain bigotry in a way that someone who’s never experienced it can understand.
“That’s stupid,” Conner decides, pulling the sweatshit on.
“Agreed,” I confirm, mentally patting myself on the back. (Point one to Clark. Parenting level one completed. I hope the birds and the bees talk can wait a few years.)
“Boys! Dinner,” Mum voice rings through the house, and we make our way down stairs.
“You’re in for a real treach, Kon-El,” I tell him, rejoyishing at the smile his Kryptonian name brings to his lips. “Mum’s tomato soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, and potato chips. A meal fit for a king, if you ask me.”
Dad and mum are already seated at the table when we arrive. Dad can’t seem to keep his eyes off Conner, something like amazed wonder in his eyes. After everyone is served and settled Dad takes it upon himself to start off tonight’s entertainment.
“So, Conner, have I ever told you the story of Clark’s first crush?” He asks, (the traitor) a mischievous smile on his lips.
“DAD!”