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Clark never used his powers to spy on his children. Just because he could look through walls or listen to them from miles away didn’t mean he should. He wanted them to know that they were allowed some privacy. He wanted them to know he trusted them. He wanted them to know he respected them.
That didn’t mean he didn’t use his powers to check on them at times, but that wasn’t the same thing at all. No matter if Lois had that grin every time she found out he’d done so.
Checking on them wasn’t the same as spying. Spying was seeing what they were doing for no reason other than he wanted to know or catch them doing something. Checking on them was because he’d heard, seen, or felt something that made him concerned there might be something going on with one of them that he needed to help with.
Jon was generally a good kid. That said, he was at the age where he was starting to stretch his wings and to rebel a little. Nothing huge or worrisome, but worth keeping an ear out for, especially if Damian happened to be with him. Then, a sudden silence was a cause for concern. The boys might have sneaked off for some daring do and no matter how skilled they thought they were, both still had a lot to learn. They weren’t ready to try any heroics without their fathers or big brothers there to guide and support them.
They could get in trouble. They could get hurt. They could get someone else hurt. So Clark checked in on Jon fairly regularly, especially when his best friend was over.
Bizarro was still figuring himself out. He often had a difficult time expressing himself. Keeping an ear out for any signs of growing frustration or distress was a good way to ensure Clark could step in to help before Bizarro started breaking things or getting too upset. Unlike with Jon, Clark found that he could worry less (and therefore check up on his son less) when Jason was with him. There had been a couple incidents at first where the young man had been mildly hurt, but they were past that. Somehow, Bizarro’s friend just knew instinctively how to calm him or reassure him without making a big deal about it. Not that Clark was ever going to ignore his son’s needs, but it was nice to know there was someone else around to help him.
Conner warranted a different type of concern for Clark. He was at the age (and of the personality type) that keeping an ear out when he had a girl over was just smart. Most of his close friends were also heroes and his best friend in particular was a regular mortal doing the hero gig. That led to some stress and upsets when they were hurt or in danger. If he heard the sound of a superpowered fist striking a tree, Clark knew he needed to go to his middle child immediately.
Recently though, Clark had found himself nursing a concern that he wasn’t sure was warranted or not.
It started out as a misunderstanding of sorts. In truth, each incident had turned out to be a misunderstanding or simply confusing for Clark. However, the fact that he kept misunderstanding made him wonder if maybe there was something there that he hadn’t consciously noticed yet. He wondered if maybe he should be keeping an eye on it.
On the other hand, he could just be behaving like a paranoid father. Having three kids with superpowers and a nerves-of-steel investigative journalist for a wife will do that to a man. That wasn’t even getting into what his best friend and his kids got up to most nights. Clark still went out of his way to fly over Blüdhaven whenever he was returning home at night just to make sure Dick didn’t need any help. He still kept an ear on Gotham frequently, making sure a specific heartbeat could be heard -strong and clear- at the end of the night.
In any case, he wasn’t sure what to make of some incidents involving Conner and Tim.
The first incident in question had been the most clear misunderstanding. Clark hadn’t even known that anyone was in Conner’s room with him until he heard his son (from inside the barn, where he’d been working) release a deep, appreciative moan. The sound had caught his attention and he’d listened to ensure that something wasn’t going on. He heard his son moan again and then groan out some questionable words.
“You can grip tighter, you won’t hurt me. Ooh. Yeah, like that… Oh, that feels good… Ngh. Keep going…”
They’d kept Conner home from school because he’d helped fight Atlas the day before and had hit the Rogue hard enough and often enough to actually make his shoulder sore. Clark and Lois wanted him to rest and they wanted to be able to keep an eye on him because it was unusual for Clark or his sons to actually feel sore after a fight. A couple of Conner’s friends had called to check up on him, so thinking one might have stopped by was reasonable. From what he was hearing though, Clark was a little concerned about who was there and what his son might be doing with them. After all, Conner had slept with his girlfriend in his grandparents barn before. It wasn’t unfair to think he might be crossing that line again.
A peek through the buildings showed Clark that his concerns were unwarranted. Conner was siting up in bed, pajama pants in place, with Tim sitting crossed legged beside him and massaging some sort of balm into his shoulder. Unlike Conner, Tim was well versed in dealing with sore and strained muscles after a battle. Clearly, he’d decided to come see what he could do for his best friend. Clark returned to work, feeling slightly bad for making such assumptions about his son.
But then, a few weeks later, he’d known that Conner and Tim were in his son’s room. He’d had no reason to assume anything untoward was going on. Except, once again, he heard some rather suspicious sounds and words. Again, the first thing to catch his attention had been a moan. This time, it sounded pained and it came from Tim. It was also quieter than the last time, as though care were being taken not to be too loud.
Had Clark only possessed the hearing of a regular human, he wouldn’t have heard it at all. He’d been ready to ignore it (after all, a sore Wayne pushing himself wasn’t really anything noteworthy), provided he didn’t hear anything else to suggest the boy was truly hurt. But then his son responded. Conner’s words made Clark think maybe he wasn’t just hanging out with his best friend after all.
“Damn, Tim. How are you this tight?”
That was followed by another quiet, pained groan from Tim. And then another questionable comment from Conner.
“Wait…has anyone ever done this to you before?”
Another pained groan forced out the word “No”. Then Tim, voice tight, spoke more clearly. “And to be honest, I don’t -ugh- think I like it.”
Conner’s response was far from comforting.
“Just give me a sec. It’ll start to feel really good once you loosen up a little, I promise. I know what I’m doing.”
Looking through the ceiling and into Conner’s room, Clark saw that Tim was sitting in Conner’s desk chair and his son was behind his friend. Apparently, Conner was returning the gesture from a few weeks before, as he was attempting to massage his friend’s tense shoulders and back. Unfortunately, the motion seemed to be making Tim’s muscles more tense. Or perhaps Conner was using a little too much strength. Either way, they weren’t doing anything they shouldn’t be and once again, Clark felt a little bad for his assumption.
Although, to be fair, he thought most parents would have worried about their kid having sex if they’d heard that coming from their room.
He’d put the issues behind him, thinking them nothing more than simple misunderstandings and all but forgetting about them in time. Until the next incident occurred.
Clark had been churning the compost pile when he heard a strange sound come from the barn. It was a soft sound; one of surprise and something else…something tender. It had been so short and so quiet that he hadn’t been able to place a voice. It had been too high to be Conner or Bizarro, but that didn’t rule out much. He was still focusing on any sounds coming from the barn, so he heard Conner loud and clear, even though he was speaking softly.
“Here, part your legs more so I can get between them.”
Clark immediately turned his head to look across the field and into the barn.
Tim was standing and looking down at something in his hands. He was holding something in both of them and cupping it close to his chest. As requested, he adjusted his stance so his legs (fully covered in thick denim) were further apart. Conner, who was standing behind his friend, ducked down and put his head between Tim’s legs, then both boys quickly moved together as Conner straightened so that Tim was sitting on his shoulders. Then, just as smoothly, Tim stood on Conner’s shoulders. Conner took the weight like it was nothing and gently held onto his friend’s calves, even though the boy appeared perfectly balanced. Conner was looking up and watching as Tim carefully placed the baby bird in his hands into a nest tucked into a low eve in the barn.
As Clark watched, Conner stepped back away from the nest. Tim balanced as he did so and then simply hopped forward and allowed himself to fall down, twisting his body as he did. He no doubt could have landed on his feet, but Conner reached out and caught him, bridal style, anyway. Then he smoothly deposited Tim onto his feet and both boys walked away from the rescued chick, talking quietly about birds.
Clearly, the chick had fallen out of its nest and the boys decided to put it back. They were likely speaking softly to avoid frightening the creature. Had Clark not suddenly been reminded of those past couple of odd incidents, he likely wouldn’t have thought anything of what he’d heard. He would have just wondered what the boys were up to with no specific concern in mind.
There was nothing inherently suspicious about the whole thing, but a few specifics struck Clark as odd.
For one thing, there was no way the boys hadn’t performed those maneuvers before. They’d executed them too perfectly, too smoothly. They hadn’t looked the least bit surprised or excited to be able to do so. Had it been a first, they’d have been pleased it worked so well and remarked on it.
Another issue was that Conner could fly and had been able to for all the years the boys had been friends and allies. There was no reason for them to have needed to perfect such a maneuver. No need for them to know how to form a human totem pole to reach high areas. Conner could have simply flown it up there and put the chick back where it belonged himself.
Clark considered that they might have seen a neighbor or the like out and about and decided to play it safe. Perhaps they’d learned how to reach high places without flight for that very reason. It didn’t sound like something Conner would normally do, but it sounded very much like Tim to want a plan for such situations. He supposed they could simply find it fun or perhaps useful to do things ‘the regular way’ once in a while. Or, perhaps, Conner had wanted an excuse to touch the other boy.
Clark wasn’t sure if that was a reasonable question or not. Conner never showed any interests in other boys that way. He’d never given any indication that he might. Tim hadn’t either, as far as Clark knew.
He decided that he was probably overthinking it due to the past couple misunderstandings.
Then, one day, Conner invited Tim over to play a new video game he’d downloaded. The boys assumed their usual video game positions; they moved the coffee table aside and sat on the floor in front of the sofa. That way, Conner could stretch his legs and they honestly just seemed to find it a more comfortable playing position. Clark never questioned it. He also never stuck around to hang out with the two teenagers, instead leaving them to their game while he did his own thing elsewhere.
He had been in his and Lois’ home office, looking over some notes for a story he was writing, and letting the sounds of the boys playing downstairs wash past him without registering them until he heard a combination of a gasp and a giggle, followed by complete silence outside of the boys’ somewhat rapidly beating hearts.
He quickly checked through the walls, making sure the boys hadn’t broken something or done something they weren’t sure they were going to get into trouble for. Those were the main reasons he could think of why two teenage boys would suddenly go from having fun to utter silence. That, or maybe they’d seen or heard something Clark had missed.
However, the boys hadn’t broken anything and didn’t look wary or alert to any type of threat. Actually, Clark wasn’t sure what to make of them at first. Conner still had his game controller in one hand, and the other hand was holding the underside of Tim’s nearest knee for some reason. Tim also had his controller in one hand, and the other was holding Conner’s wrist. Tim was biting his lip and clearly torn between amusement and embarrassment.
Conner looked both delighted and mischievous. “You’re ticklish?”
“No…not really. Maybe. Kinda. Just on the back of my knees.” Tim blushed slightly and looked at his friend earnestly. “Don’t tell anybody?”
“Don’t worry, I wont.” Conner sounded sincere but didn’t look any less mischievous. “But I am gonna have fun with it!”
Then, Conner dropped his controller and reached over to grab the back of Tim’s other knee. He pulled the other boy around to face him, and also ended up bracketing his hips with Tim’s knees. Tim made a few aborted sounds of protests before he was overtaken by gasps and giggles as Conner began tickling the backs of both knees without releasing his friend. Conner started laughing as well.
It was all innocent fun. Except that as Conner shifted Tim’s knees further back to make it harder for his friend to try to squirm away from the tickles, he ended up putting them in a fairly suggestive position. Clark went from laughing quietly at their antics, to frowning slightly as he noticed that the amusement shaking the boys’ bodies and the motion caused by Tim’s squirming and Conner holding and adjusting was allowing for some unexpected contact. Conner’s crotch repeatedly pressed or bumped against Tim’s upper thighs and rear. It even rubbed against his friend’s derriere for a brief moment. Yet, neither boy reacted to it at all.
They simply continued playing until Conner was laughing too hard to keep it up. By then, he was completely folded over his friend and still holding his knees, even as he stopped tickling. His body still shook with waning amusement. Tim wiped at the tears that built up and streaked down his temples during his giggling fit. Both boys laughed silently for a moment, again, not seeming to find the position they’d ended up in awkward in the least. Then, Conner rolled to his side to ensure he didn’t plop down on his friend and they squirmed about a bit to untangle their lower halves.
This revealed that Tim’s nether regions hadn’t reacted to what had occurred in the least. The crotch of Conner’s jeans looked notably fuller than usual, but neither boy seemed to pay this fact any mind.
Tim laughed silently and shoved at Conner’s shoulder without nearly enough force for his friend to even feel properly. “Cheater.”
Conner laughed then rolled onto his back to check the television screen. “Okay, I might have made it so neither of us won.” He looked back at Tim and grinned. “Rematch?”
Tim blinked away the last of the tears and returned the grin. “You’re on.”
Both boys found their previously discarded controllers and crawled back to their preferred gaming positions. They started a new game and began talking about the game and other genial things that they normally talked about while hanging out.
There wasn’t anything wrong with what had just passed, Clark knew, but it still struck him as slightly odd. He never would have gotten into that sort of position with a friend at that age. Of course, he’d had to watch that he didn’t give away his unusual strength. But even if that hadn’t been as issue, he never would have ignored something like accidental grinding with any of his friends when he was in his mid teens. It was normal for such stimulation to cause a response, even if Conner hadn’t been thinking anything non-platonic, and it was normal for a boy to ignore it if they saw their friend sporting any type of erection. However, Clark couldn’t see why Conner wouldn’t have pulled away sooner once he realized what was happening.
He supposed his son could have wanted to avoid drawing attention to it or maybe was having too much fun to care about it. Or, perhaps, it wasn’t usual for his body to respond that way to Tim. Each answer was perfectly plausible.
Clark didn’t know if there was anything to it or not.
A few days later, he and Lois came home late to find Bizarro and Jon in bed as expected, and Conner (who’d been watching his little brother) asleep on the sofa. This wasn’t unusual, except that Conner wasn’t alone on the sofa. He’d asked if Tim could spend the night and Clark and Lois had said that was fine. It was. Tim was a good kid and they didn’t have to worry about Conner getting into much trouble when he was with his best friend. Clark also knew that, logically, he didn’t have a solid reason to worry about anything untoward happening between the two boys.
Again though, he had to wonder about the position the boys were in.
Conner was stretched out on his back with one knee tented up a little, one arm folded to cover his eyes, and the other resting gently over his body. All in all, pretty common. However, Tim was lying on his side, wedged between Conner’s side and the back of the sofa. His stomach was pressed against Conner’s hip and he was basically folded so his legs were curled up under Conner’s own while his head was resting on Conner’s stomach. His upper arm was gently curled with his hand near his face and his lower arm was stuck at an odd angle so the back of his hand was nearly resting on the zipper of Conner’s jeans. Conner's hand that had initially appeared to be over his body was actually resting on Tim’s upper back.
Both boys were sound asleep, looking completely comfortable.
Lois made a soft sound and mouthed ‘how sweet’ before quietly taking out her phone to snap a quick picture. Apparently, she found nothing odd about the position the boys were in. She tucked her phone away, placed her purse on the coffee table, and knelt down to gently stroke each of the boys’ heads.
“Hey, sleepyheads.” She spoke softly, gently waking them up while simultaneously assuring them both it was only her. “I think it's time to go to bed.” She smiled when Conner moaned out an illegible complaint while Tim blinked at her in sleepy confusion. “Come on. You’ll get sore if you spend all night like that.”
Both boys got up. Conner gave each of his parents a sleepy hug goodnight while Tim waved tiredly at them and wished them goodnight before they both headed upstairs.
Checking on them (through the walls) later, Clark saw that the boys were both sleeping in Conner’s bed. They weren’t cuddling or anything and the bed was plenty big enough for them to share. Clark had never had sleepovers at their age. He made the excuse that he had to be up too early to feed the cows to add travel time to that, and his friends accepted it because they understood farm life, but he’d actually been worried about giving away his secret. He was glad Conner didn’t have that worry, but he couldn’t help but think that he would have slept on the floor or sofa had he ever accepted one of those sleepover invites. In fact, he’d heard his friends talk about sleeping bags for such events.
Again, he didn’t know what to make of it or if there even was anything there to make something out of.
The next morning, he heard the boys getting up and saw something else that struck him as a little strange. Tim had brought his own pajamas for the sleepover, and while the Robin sleep pants were expected, the Superboy t-shirt jumped out at Clark. It was over-sized for the boy, which Clark knew made it more comfortable to sleep in. Lois and Jon always preferred to sleep in over-sized shirts (Clark, Conner, and Bizarro never wore a shirt to sleep). However, this t-shirt wasn’t just over-sized. It happened to look like it was Conner’s size.
The texture of the fabric and everything looked identical to Conner’s collection of Superboy t-shirts as well. All of this meant Tim’s usual sleep shirt -that he’d packed from home to sleep more comfortably while spending the night away- was probably one of Conner’s old shirts. There were possibly plenty of innocent explanations for that, but considering that Clark’s wife was sleeping next to him while wearing one of his t-shirts made him have to at least consider that the explanation might not be so innocent.
He decided to bring all this up to Lois later that morning, while the kids were all downstairs, and they were in their master bathroom. Clark was using his laser vision to shave and Lois was shaping her eyebrows as he filled her in on all the somewhat odd situations he’d noted the two teenagers in as of late.
“I mean…it's never been anything that didn’t have a perfectly innocent or normal explanation available. It's not like I’ve caught them kissing or petting or anything. It might be nothing. But then, why do I keep noticing it as though it were something?”
“Maybe it's a generation gap issue?” Lois offered after thinking for a moment. “Their generation isn’t as insecure with their masculinity as previous ones have been.”
“I’m not insecure with my masculinity.” Clark frowned. “I don’t have a problem with their behavior. I don’t feel threatened by it. I’m glad Conner has someone he can be at such ease with at his age. I just don’t know what to make of it.”
Lois smiled at him gently through their reflections. “Because you were taught by men who believed such behaviors were for sissies, hippies, or homosexuals. Fortunately, Conner and Tim weren’t. They’re more comfortable showing affection and engaging in behaviors that were considered ‘unmanly’ in the past.”
Clark considered her words. While he’d never consciously thought of it as sissy or hippie behavior (never thought of anything really as hippie behavior, outside of movies from the sixties) he had to acknowledge that something in him just reacted as though there were something abnormal in his son’s conduct with his best friend. It could have simply been that the first few incidents to grab his attention had began with what sounded like sexual conduct. That could have made his thoughts lean that way with the others. Or it could have been a subconscious belief that their behavior wasn’t normal for two straight teenage boys.
Clark felt bad about that. He hoped it wasn’t true. He didn’t want to judge anyone so unfairly, the least of all one of his own children.
“I’m not sure what to do.” He admitted, turning to his wife. “I don’t know if this is an issue with me or with them. I don’t know if it's something I need to talk to him about or sort out myself.”
She shrugged and started brushing her hair. “The two of them are close enough that some playing and affection sounds normal to me. And it's not like Conner’s ever given us reason to suspect he’d want Tim or any boy that way.” She offered a sympathetic smile. “But after what we found out happened with Cassie and what you heard the first couple times, it makes sense that your dad alarm would go off. I don’t think there’s anything going on between Conner and Tim, but if you’re concerned, then you should talk to Conner.”
Lois paused for a moment, thinking as she put away her hair brush and grabbed her toothbrush. “You kept saying ‘at their age’.” She looked at her husband thoughtfully. “So…if they were younger, you wouldn't think their behavior was strange? What if they were older? Would it seem as strange for Conner to tickle Tim if they were Jon’s age or yours?”
Clark considered those questions. If they’d been considerably younger, he never would have questioned that something sexual was happening no matter what he’d heard. He would have likely been curious and he still would have checked up on them, but his mind wouldn’t have jumped to any specific conclusion. Jon was just getting to the age where such things might be a problem, but he was still childlike enough that Clark doubted his mind would have gone there if he’d heard any of it coming from him instead of his brother.
He couldn’t think of any situation where him tickling Bruce at their ages would seem appropriate. But it wasn’t because he was interpreting the actions as childish. It was because he was a full grown, married man.
He pulled himself from his thoughts to seek his wife’s counsel once again. “I’m only finding their interactions odd because I’m assuming it's sexual. If they were young enough for that not to be an issue, I wouldn’t question it. If they were older, I would find it more peculiar unless they had a different sort of relationship.”
Lois considered that and gave a slow, single nod. Then she offered an encouraging look. “Then maybe you need to ask yourself why you think two male friends old enough to be interested in sex can’t just do the sorts of things the boys have been doing. I mean, what was actually wrong with any of it?” Her look was questioning but also knowing. “They never gave any indication that any of it was sexual, that was your interpretation.”
Clark nodded. He’d considered that there could be more innocent explanations each time. As such incidents had added up, he’d just had a harder time accepting them. “You think they weren’t?”
Lois threw up a hand and shook her head, looking like she didn’t think there was much cause to question it.
“Tim wanted to help Conner feel better when he was hurt and Conner tried to help when Tim was over stressed to the point that it was negatively affecting his body. They put the baby bird back in its nest in a way that was more fun but slightly less efficient, and also more safe against potential prying eyes. They were literally playing when the tickling thing happened. They fell asleep on the sofa binge-watching a show while babysitting together. They were tired and they’re comfortable with each other enough that they decided to crash in the same bed rather than deal with a blow up mattress. After the hell Tim’s been through recently and even not-so-recently, if sleeping in his best friend’s shirt somehow helps him, then I’ll buy Conner all the new shirts he wants so he can hand the old ones over.”
Lois took a breath after that last comment. She looked upset, thinking of everything the boys had been through the past several months and even years. She also looked hopeful. She looked relieved.
“To be honest, I’m relieved that they still can play. After everything they’ve both been through, I’m glad they haven’t closed themselves off entirely or tried to be a grown up too quickly.” Lois looked moderately apologetic as she added to that. “Well, Conner’s doing better than Tim in that last regard. But I think he’d be worse if he didn’t have Conner to remind him of his age or that it's okay to act his age sometimes. I’m glad they can help each other where they need it.
“I’m glad they can still offer each other comfort when they need it.”
Everything his wife said made sense, but more than that, the last comment made Clark re-frame the way he’d viewed each of the boys’ actions. They’d lost each other for a while (during a time Clark hated to think about), they’d lost plenty of others as well, and then they’d nearly lost each other again several times. All in just a couple short years. Of course they would want to take care of each other. Of course they would embrace the time they had together when they could just relax and have fun. Of course they wouldn't let someone else’s views of what was appropriately masculine behavior for a pair of teenage boys get in the way of making sure the other felt loved and happy.
Clark nodded. “You’re right.” He gently placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Understanding, she moved in to embrace him. “You’re right.
“Losing Conner-” His voice broke, even now, trying to talk about that. “It was hell. At least we had each other. We had Jon. And my folks.
“Still, losing Bruce so soon afterwards…” That had been hard. In fact, it was probably the hardest time of Clark’s life, losing his son and his best friend so close to one another. “If I’d been on my own like Tim…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through it.”
When Conner had returned, Clark wanted to just hold him and never let go.
Clark hadn’t told him, but when Bruce first returned, he’d taken to flying over Gotham most nights just to see his friend alive and doing his thing again.
Clark had to let Conner continue to grow and learn. He couldn't keep popping up in Gotham to make sure Bruce wasn’t taking on anything too crazy again. He had to move on with his life and let them move on with theirs. And they all had, but their lives were different than what they’d been before. They were probably different than what they’d have been if those events hadn’t occurred.
Clark kept his boys on a shorter leash because of those events, he knew. He was afraid that one of them would get in over their heads. He was afraid to lose one of them again. Bruce had started focusing on his family more after he came back. They’d both realized that being heroes was part of them, and their children, but their families were a much more important part of them. They’d each put more effort into being a family first.
He couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered what those events had changed in the boys. How they might have wanted to hold on to each other a little more closely. How they might fear that every time they say goodbye is going to be the last time. That the other might not come back.
He couldn’t hold them to anyone’s standards for their ages or gender after that. They were more than responsible enough for their ages. They’d stood up to villains and recovered from events that most brave, strong men would be broken by. If anyone else ever dared to say otherwise, they would answer to Clark.
The next time he heard an unexpected sound coming from the two boys, he wasn’t suspicious. He still checked on them to make sure everything was okay. He was a dad and he loved being one. He was always going to check in on his kids and their friends. That would never change, likely even when they truly were too grown up to need it.
The boys were taking a break in shoveling the driveway to make snow angels. Not being as large, strong, or warm as Conner was, Tim was having a slightly harder time making the hard-packed snow move. Conner laughed as he floated above his friend and offered half-serious encouragement. Then he helped Tim up out of the snow since he couldn’t fly out and he didn’t want him to mess up his hard work in shaping the angel.
Clark wasn’t confused. He didn’t try to figure out their actions. He just smiled at the sight of his son having fun with his best friend and then left them to their peaceful moment.
The boys managed to leave the angels intact even after finishing the driveway. Clark didn’t comment, but he smiled every time he saw them. He noticed that Lois, Conner, and Tim each wore a little smile whenever they saw them as well. Eventually, a pair of large angels joined them, as Jason and Bizarro decided to add their own attempts at angel making. Bizarro’s was a little less neat, and appeared to be wearing really wide pants instead of a robe, but the intent was still clear. More importantly, he’d had a lot of fun making them with Jason.
Then, a couple more angels were added when Jon showed Damian how to make snow angels. Unlike his brothers, Damian refused to be lifted out by his flying friend. He’d hit part of the head with both hands when he attempted to leap out of the shape. He’d also scraped the side a little with one foot. The result honestly looked like the angel had horns and a tail. The whole family laughed every time they saw it.
Clark loved pulling up the driveway and seeing the row of snow angels. He even used his frost breath to keep the shapes visible for much longer than they would have been naturally.
The first time Bruce saw the snow angels, he looked at them curiously for a moment before wearing a small smile himself. He took in the perfect lines of Tim’s and Conner’s with a gentle smile. It grew slightly at the sight of Jason’s and Bizarro’s less patient angels. He laughed softly when he saw Damian’s demonic looking angel next to Jon’s traditional one. Then, he took out his phone and snapped a photo.
Clark smiled at his friend. Then he got an idea. He motioned toward the end of the line of angels, which didn’t even make it halfway down his long driveway. “There’s room for more. What do you say?”
Bruce looked at him with an arched brow. But then he smiled again. “Why not? The kids will like it.”
The angels turned out great. Most importantly, it had been fun, making them with Bruce. When they came in and the boys saw the snow on them, they asked after it. Jon said it was no fair that they’d played in the snow and hadn’t asked if anyone else wanted to. So they took the boys out to build snowmen on the other side of the driveway. Lois came home and helped get Bizarro’s upside-down snowman to stand, having learned the art of packing snow while making snow forts with her father as a child.
That information led to fort building and a huge snowball fight in the backyard.
Clark had to say, the boys were definitely onto something. Sometimes just having fun with your best friend (age or gender appropriate be damned) could make everything that had gone wrong seem further away. It made the world feel a little happier for a while. It made more good memories to counter the bad ones. It made everything feel like it was all going to be okay.
He wasn’t going to attempt any tickle attacks anytime soon, but it was a good lesson to learn.