Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Early morning sunlight filtered in through the old, pale green curtains, filling the quiet kitchen with warmth.  Clark yawned as he stirred a bit of milk into his first cup of coffee, followed by a few cubes of sugar.  Only his first cup was light and sweet, every other cup after that would be black , but some mornings he needed the extra pick-me-up.  Running around after three boys wasn’t easy .  He shifted the toddler in his arms, as he set the spoon back on the counter.    Jon had woken up fussy, but had settled down as soon as Clark had picked him up, tucking his face into his neck.  The young pup easing as soon as his Mother’s scent hit his nose.  Clark raised his cup to his mouth taking a slow sip, being careful not to spill any on Jon.  Jon whimpered against his neck at the slight jostling, and Clark started up a gently purr, rubbing his cheek against the soft black curls of his son’s head.  A few moments later Jon settled back down, and Clark made his way to the window, taking a quick look outside at the barn and the pasture beyond.  

He had about fifteen minutes before his kitchen would be invaded by two more pups, and his peaceful morning would cease, and he’d have to start his day.  Until Conner and Chris bounced into the room demanding breakfast, Clark was going to enjoy his coffee and some quiet time with his youngest.  He glanced at the calendar on the fridge, to see what he had on task for today.  Saturday.  Today was walking  the  western fence line, looking for any breaks, as well as heading into town and buying any  extra  stock the y  needed for the animals ,   as well as groceries  for themselves.  

He nuzzled Jon’s head once more, before placing the still dozing pup in his high chair, and started on making breakfast.  It would be a busy day, so a hearty meal of pancakes and sausages to keep them full until lunch was called for.  

Almost fifteen minutes later, on the dot, he heard the pounding of feet overhead as Conner and Chris made their way down the stairs, sliding on stocking feet into the kitchen, as they raced each other down the stairs.  A reprimand is on his tongue, because the boys know better, but it bleeds into a smile when both boys chirp a bright good morning as they climb up onto their chairs at the table.  “Morning,  M ama!”  

“Morning boys. Sleep well?”  He glanced over at his two oldest, as he flipped the sausages and poured the first pancake into a waiting pan.  

Conner nodded, green eyes bright as he knelt on the chair, reaching for an orange to peel for Jon who was waking up and starting to fuss.  His oldest took his big brother duties very seriously.  “I slept great!”  

“That’s good, Kon.  What about you Chris?”  He turned his attention to his suddenly quiet, five-year-old, who was looking more serious than a boy his age should.  “What’s wrong, pumpkin?”  

Chris shifted in his chair, staring hard at the table.  “I had the dream again. ”  It was said barely above a whisper, but Clark heard it.  He almost dropped the spatula he was holding, as he turned to face his middle child.  “Conner could you -”  

Conner was up before he could finish his request, taking the spatula from Clark and eyeing the pancake critically, like it was going to burn on purpose just to spite the small boy.  Clark ruffled his eldest’s hair as he made his way to the table, and crouched down next to Chris.  

“Baby, why didn’t you come wake me up?”  

Chris sniffled and wiped at his face; green eyes bright with tears.  “I didn’t  wanna  bug you, it’s just a stupid dream.”  His words  dissolved  into a soft whine, as he wiped at his face again.  

“Christopher Kent, your dreams are not stupid if they make you feel like this.”  He reached forward wrapping his hand around  the back of  Chris’ neck, squeezing gently.  “I have no problem with you coming to me, day or night, for any reason.  You’re my son, and I want to help you.  Okay?”  

Chris sniffed and nodded.  “Yeah, okay.”  

“Good.” Clark rocked forward on his feet, and kissed Chris’ forehead, and Chris smiled shyly.  

Clark made his way back to the stove, ruffling Conner’s hair, “Thanks sport.”  

“Welcome, Mama.”  

Conner reclaimed his chair as Clark finished up making breakfast for him and his boys.  It hasn’t been easy, since Lois left, to raise three boys on his own.  But it helped that the boys were at an easy age, though that might change soon with Conner getting closer to puberty, closer to presenting. Clark was pretty sure his oldest was going to be an Alpha, and that would bring its own host of problems, but he’d enjoy is well-mannered, even tempered boys until then.  

Clark smiled, briefly distracted from the puzzle before him, as he listened to Jon gurgling happily up at his older brother as  he  floated above him, pulling goofy faces.  He turned back and looked at the fence line that was encroaching onto his land.  It looked like it was only 500 yards  of fence  that was jutting into the middle of his back forty, but he hadn’t really looked to be sure yet,  to  see if it went further.  He swore that two weeks ago the fence was 200 yards to the left.  He did biweekly checks of both sides of his property, to maintain it and check for breaks, or posts that needed repairing, and he was positive, that this wasn’t here last week.  

He sighed and turned to look at the wagon that was holding his two youngest.  “Hey Chris, kiddo, you want to come over here for a second?”  He smiled as the five-year old clambered out of the wagon and ran over to him, clutching at his pant legs.  

“Yeah?”  

“Want to do your Mama a  favour ?”  

“Yes!”  He grinned up at Clark as he reached down to pick up the boy, smiling back at him.  

“Good lad.  Can you look down the rest of the fence and see how far this goes down?”  He swung and lifted Chris, settling him up on his shoulders.  

Chris giggled happily as he wrapped his small arms around Clark’s forehead, hands clasping at the front.  “Yeah, but can’t you do it?”  

Clark smiled indulgently, patting Chris’s leg.  “I could yes, but you need the practice too.”  He laughed at Chris’s pout.  “Oh, don’t frown.  If you do this we can finish early, and we can get ice-cream on the way back from town.”  Clark laughed as Chris squirmed with excitement.  

“Okay!  I can do it.”  Chris went quiet as he concentrated on the fence, gazing down along the line, not a muscle moving as he focused on the task that was given him.  “It goes all the way done to the end of the fence.”  

“Good job sweetheart.”  Clark lifted Chris off of his shoulders, nudging the boy back towards the wagon.  “Okay boys! Let’s head back to the house now, I have a phone call to make before we head into town.”  

Clark hung up the phone, using every ounce of restraint and will power he had, not to slam the phone back into its cradle, he could feel an annoyed, frustrated growl rolling around in his chest, and clenched his teeth.  He took a breath trying to calm himself, and looked out at the yard watching Chris and Jon play in the sandbox he had built for them last fall.  Letting the innocence of the two boys wash away his irritation.  

He looked up when he heard a soft whine, and glanced over to look at Conner, who had been sitting at the table, doing his reading for the day.  Clark immediately felt guilt clawing at his insides, when he caught the sour tang of fear in his eldest’s scent, and he immediately moved to reassure him.  

“I’m not upset at you, darlin’.”  Clark walked over and pulled Conner into a quick hug, letting the boy nuzzle at his stomach, petting at his hair.  “It’s just, the phone call Mama had ,   did  not go how I thought it would, that’s all.  Now, how about you finish up that page you’re on, then we’ll go get your brothers and head into town.”  

Conner nodded, and turning back to his book.  He didn’t pick it up right away though, instead rubbing the page between his fingers.  Clark recognized the fact that Conner wanted to ask him a question, and waited patiently while the boy gathered his thoughts.  “Are you mad at the new  neighbours ?”  

Clark crossed his arms, and leaned against the sturdy wooden kitchen table, letting the old wood hold his weight, the solid oak barely groaned in protest.  “I’m not mad...I’m frustrated.”  

“That’s not the same thing?”  

“They’re similar emotions, but not the same.  Frustration is...” Clark paused as he tried to think of an analogy that Conner could understand.  He was a smart boy, but emotions could be a complex subject, even for adults.  “Frustration is like when you’re trying to get through a paragraph of a book, but you get stuck on a word, and you know you should know it, but for some reason you can’t get it, so you close the book, and storm off.  Frustration can turn to anger, if you let it, it matters in how you deal with it.”  

“ So,  if leaving the book alone when I’m stuck and getting upset is frustration, but if I instead ripped up the book, because I let my frustration get too much, that’s anger?”  

Clark nodded, smiling proudly down at Conner.  “That’s it exactly, good job!”  Conner smiled back, proud of himself for understanding, and preening slightly under his mother’s praise.  “That’s why I hung up the phone.  I could feel my frustration getting to be too much.  So even though I know I’m in the right, arguing wasn’t going to get me anywhere.   So,  I ended the conversation before I could get mad.”  

“I’ve never seen you mad, Mama.”  

“I hope you never do, sweetheart.  Remember the talk I had with you, a few years ago, when you lifted up the couch?”  

“Yes.  I have to be careful, because I could hurt someone without meaning to.”  

“Exactly right.  Your emotions can sometimes overrule your common sense, but you must always be mindful of how much stronger you are than the rest of the world.”  Clark reached with one hand, and grasped Conner’s shoulder, making sure the boy was paying close attention.  “That’s why it’s important to recognize when you’re getting mad, or frustrated, or feel any type of overwhelming emotion.  Understand?”  

“Yes Mama, I understand.”  

Clark grinned again, leaning forward to place a quick kiss on the top of Conner’s head.  “Good boy.  Now finish that page and we’ll get going.  You still want some ice cream, right?”  

“Duh!”  

“He B!  Someone’s at the door for  ya !”  

Bruce looked up from the papers he had been going over.  The financials given to him by the previous owner were a mess and he was still trying to decipher them ,  since they were hand written scribbles, rather than electronic records.  He was still trying to get a hold on how to run a ranch, but he successfully ran a Fortune 100 company for several years, still was, even from Kansas, so how hard could this really be?  

He cast a quick look to the small table by the window, making sure Tim and Cass were still happily reading, before heading for the front door, where Jason had called from.  

“Who is it, Jay-lad?”  He came around the corner into the hall, pausing at the sight of Jason standing in the shadow of a tall man, taller than even Bruce was himself, short, messy black hair, and the brightest pair of blue eyes Bruce had ever seen.  He was dressed down in a pair of old work boots, faded blue jeans, a button up black and red plaid shirt, open at the collar, with a white undershirt underneath.  Held in one arm against his side, small body supported by his large forearm, was a dozing baby.  In his other hand was a large dark yellow manila folder, the county seal stamped on the front.  

Bruce couldn’t quite help the scowl that took over his face at the sight of the envelope , and any residual feelings of attraction faded away .  He stepped up to the door and squeezed Jason’s shoulder in thanks.  “I got this son.  Why don’t you go help Dick in the barn?”  

Jason looked up at him noticing  the darker expression on Bruce’s face , before back at the giant of a man standing in their doorway.  He gave a small, silent snarl, before turning and heading back into the house, calling out as he headed for the back door.  “Hey, Cass, bring tiny Tim, an’ come sit outside while  ya  read!”  

Bruce waited until the back door was closed, before turning back to the doorway.  “My apologies, Jason isn’t very fond of strangers.”  He stepped closer to the door,  closing it a little behind him,  blocking the sight of the rest of the house.  

The man smiled, and it was a gentle thing, soft around the edges, but genuine in a way Bruce didn’t see often, and never from strangers.  It was something he was slowly getting used to with small-town living.   He squashed down another surge of attraction and crossed his arms across his chest.  

“That’s okay, it can be hard when your settling someplace new, my oldest was the same way when we first moved here.”   Was the calm, easy reply, as the man adjusted the dozing baby in his arm.  

“What can I do for you Mr.?”  

“Clark Kent.  I called earlier.”  

Bruce was suddenly all business, standing taller, and squaring his shoulders, recalling the earlier conversation he had had with his new neighbour.  “Look ,  if this is about the fence-”  

Clark shifted minutely, turning so the baby in his arms was further out of reach, and Bruce frowned internally at the reaction.  “It is, and trust me I really don’t want to make a big deal about a stretch of fence, but I grew up on this property , and  I know where our property lines are.  I decided to go down to city hall today anyway and make sure.”  Bruce reached for the folder the taller man handed to him.  

The shift of cotton as Clark handed him the folder brought with it the man’s scent, fresh cut grass, the clean smell of earth after the rain, the smell of ozone after a lightning strike, and something soft, but familiar, that he couldn’t quite put a name too.  His nose registered the  underlying sweet  scent of Omega though, and an annoyed Omega at that .  H e subconsciously shifted to make himself look less imposing, watching as Clark’s own stance eased in reaction.  

Clark cleared his throat as he took a step back, moving so he had both arms holding the still sleepy  infant .  “This is a survey of both of our properties, detailing property lines, directions, and notable landmarks.  I don’t mind helping a neighbour out if needed, but I don’t appreciate being condescended to, especially not when I know the property almost as well as I know my own name.”  

Bruce looked down at the large envelope in his hand for a moment before turning his eyes back up to Clark, seeing the lines around his eyes and mouth as he frowned, and he somehow knew that the look wasn’t natural for the larger man.  “Of course.  I ’ll  look this over and make sure it matches up with what the previous owner gave me.”  

“Appreciated.  I apologize for infringing on your afternoon.  You enjoy the rest of your day Mr. Wayne.”  Clark nodded his goodbye and turned on his heel, walking off the porch and to the old blue pick-up truck parked in his drive way.  

Bruce could make out two more faces peering out from the window and the back of the truck bed.  Two more boys, one just as dark haired as Clark and the baby had been, the other with dark blonde hair.  He watched as Clark opened the back door, placing the toddler into a car-seat in the back, before walking around to the driver side and climbing in himself.  

He waited until the large omega, and his small family, were nothing but a speck at the end of his driveway before turning his attention to the folder in his hand.  He pulled the flap open and pulled out the surveys, giving them both a quick glance, cursing colourfully.  A glance is all it takes to tell him that the other man is correct.  The survey  in his hand  looks much different than the one he has  sitting  on his desk.  

“Dammit.” He curse d  softly to himself once more,  then   raised  his voice, calling further into the house.  “Alfred, what was the name of the fencing company we used?”  

Chapter Text

If Bruce thought that the Fence Debacle would be the end of the issues he would have with the Kent’s, he was sadly mistaken.  It seemed the universe was set on bringing them together, even if it was just into petty arguments.  The mail being delivered to the wrong house, the fence company moving the wrong fence, which resulted in the Kent’s pigs and goats getting into his other neighbours' pasture, having to pay to fix both fences, their feed orders getting switched, and the list went on.  It was going on nearly two months of constant headaches and Bruce just wanted it to be over already.  

He was hoping to go at least one week without a hiccup, but judging by the fact that his feed delivery was late, again, that week would not be this one.  He looked down at Tim who was curled up in the shade of the tree they were waiting under, book open in his lap.  “Tim,” he  patiently  waited for the boy to look up at him.  “Do you mind running back to the house and getting Alfred to call the delivery company, and see what’s taking so long?”  

“Okay.”  Tim stood and brushed the grass and dust off of his pants, handing Bruce his book, before jogging down the lane back to the house.  It wasn’t too far to the house from the barn, and the sun and fresh air would do the boy good.  He was still too small, too pale for Bruce or Alfred’s liking.  

He understood that Tim was still grieving for his parents, sympathized with the soul crushing pain and loneliness the boy was probably feeling.  Lost his home, lost his pack, moved to a new State, no longer sure of his place.  He’s impressed that the child hasn’t cracked under the strain of it all yet.  

Bruce did, when he lost his parents.  Screamed and raged at the world, withdrew from everything for a while.  The emotional and mental stress of losing his parents, and faced with the fact that he would have to face everything without them, had caused Bruce to present early, at 8.  The same had happened with both Jason and Cass.  That Tim hasn’t, had Bruce concerned.  It’s a natural reaction to extreme stress.  It left some very uncomfortable questions floating around in his mind.  Was Tim not bonded with his parents before they died?  Did he not see them as pack?  It would explain his lack of reaction, even several months after the fact, and his reluctance to bond with his new one.  

It had only taken Bruce a week after his parent’s deaths to present, they had almost had to postpone the funeral.  Jason had come to him, at 11 years old, having already presented at 9 according to Jason.  Same with Cass, who he was told presented at 8.  He was concerned for his fourth child’s health, and he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject without spooking the pup, or hurting him possibly further.  Tim was still withdrawn from him, Alfred, and Dick, he clung more to Cass and Jason, trusting the younger Alpha and Omega more than the older members of his new pack, though still refrained from seeking out comfort beyond being in their presence.   

He was jarred from his quiet worry about his youngest when he heard the crunch of feet on grass.  He looked up, hoping to see an apologetic looking speedster with his feed order .  I nstead he saw Clark making his way over with his toddler, who  was  held safely in some sort of sling across the Omega’s broad chest, gurgling happily.  He had to fight down the annoyance at seeing the other man walking on his property.   Has to bite back the reflexive growl at someone coming onto his territory uninvited.   Clark doesn’t generally come by unannounced, not since the first time he’d walked up into the barn.  He’s still both proud and embarrassed that Jason had tried to bite the man, only stopped by Dick’s quick intervention.  

“Kent.  What can I do for you?”  

Clark at least had the grace to look sheepish.  One large hand – which was suspiciously soft and unmarred for a man who worked on a farm for a living – going up to rub at the back of his head.  “Sorry for stopping by like this.  I saw you standing out here and was just coming over to ask if Barry had been by with your delivery yet?  He hasn’t been by our place, and we’re after you on his route.”  

Bruce  frowned as he  crossed his arms – Tim’s book still clenched in his hand, finger between the pages so he doesn’t lose Tim’s place – and scowled back out towards the road where Barry should have been coming from.  Not t hat t hey ever saw the man approach. He and the 50, ten-pound bags of feed Bruce had ordered, would just suddenly be there, between one blink and the next.  “No, he hasn’t.  Have you called the Company?  I sent Tim up to the house to get Alfred to try calling.”  

Clark nodded as he leaned against the tree Tim had been sitting under, digging some toy out of his pocket and giving it to Jon, who went from gurgling to squealing in glee, gripping the ring of keys in pudgy fingers, waving them enthusiastically.  Bruce watch Clark smile indulgently at the happy child before answering.  “I did yeah.  I talked with Iris; she says he’s out making deliveries.  He probably got caught up talking to old Mrs. Krantz again.   She said that i f he hasn’t shown up in another five minutes to give her a call and she’ll send Wally out with the rest of the deliveries.”  

Clark looked up suddenly, glancing behind Bruce.  Bruce looked over his own shoulder, confused because he  had n’t hear d  anythin g.  He hoped to see that Barry had finally arrived ,  instead  he’s surprised to see Tim approaching from the house.  Tim slow ed  when he reache d  Bruce, peering out at Clark from behind  the shorter Alpha , looking from Clark, to the baby, and back, before finally looking at Bruce.  He answered Bruce before he can even ask his question.  

“Alfred talked to Mrs.  Allen .  She’s sending out Wally with the rest of the deliveries.  He should be here soon.”  

Bruce sent his youngest a small smile, reaching out and gripping his shoulder gently before letting it drop back to his side, working to hide the frown that wanted to show on his face when he felt Tim tense under his hand.  “Good job, Tim.  Thank you.”  

“You’re welcome, Bruce.”  Tim seem ed  unsure for a moment, shifting from foot, unsure.  “Can I have my book?  I’m going to go read by the barn and watch Dick teach Jay how to ride.”  

“Of course. ”  Bruce handed him the book, waiting until Tim and saved his space before letting go.    “ Tell them to be careful.”  

Tim raised a hand in farewell and  jog ged  off to the ranch’s other barn. “I will!”  

Bruce watch ed  until Tim ha d  disappeared around the  big barn , before releasing the sigh that he had been holding in.  

“Your son calls you by your first name?”  

Bruce kept himself snapping by the skin of his teeth.  Clark doesn’t know who he is, doesn’t know that his pack is a patchwork;  stitched together and  tested in fire, blood, and loss.  “Tim...Tim isn’t my son biologically.  I was, am his godfather.”  He took a breath, shoving his hands into his pockets so the Omega wouldn’t see how his hands were shaking. Though with the wind blowing towards Clark, the other man could probably smell his grief and anger on his scent easily.  “His parents died recently, and left him in my care in their will.  He’s still......adjusting.”  

There  was  a stunned silence for several moments, and when Bruce look ed  up, he ca ught  the look of astonishment that flit ted  across Clarks face, to be replaced by sadness and what look ed  like pity.  Before he c ould  snarl any sort of retort, Clark’s voice br oke  the tense quiet, his voice soft on the air between them.  “I’m sorry for your loss and his.  He’ll come around eventually.  It’s not an easy thing, bringing a pup into a pack that’s not your own.”  

Bruce blinked and glanced down at the still happy  infant , who was by this time gumming at the keys in his hand, staring out at the world around him, blue eyes bright with wonder and curiosity.  

Clark must have seen him look at his son and chuckled.  “No, Jon here is 100% mine.  Chris, my middle son, is adopted.  We...my ex and I, took him in when he was two.  He didn’t have the greatest start to learning what a pack was, and it took him time to learn to trust us, he still struggles , especially since..... .”  Clark  trailed  off as  smiled sadly for a moment, before continuing.  “He would still rather bottle up what’s bothering him, than come to me with it, but he’s getting there.  Tim will too.”  

“I.......thank you, Clark.  I’m sure  he  will.”  

Clark smiled at him, and it’s another one of those soft, heartfelt smiles, and Bruce felt something shift in his chest, that he again did his best to ignore. He was not ready to let anyone in just yet, not after everything that’s happened.  

“Well I should get back to mine.”  Clark pushed himself off the tree, brushing bits of bark off of his pants. “I left Connor to watch Chris, and I don’t want to know the state my kitchen is in right now.  Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Bruce.”  Clark waved his goodbye, turning to head back to his own property, and easily caught the keys when Jon suddenly threw them over his shoulder, squealing in glee when Clark shook the keys in his face.  

Bruce s hook  his head , fighting back a small smile,   and turned  his back on the departing pair just in time to see a grinning redhead, standing next to a neat stack of bags, clipboard in hand.  “Sorry for the wait, Mr. Wayne.  Turned out Uncle Barry had to take Mrs. Krantz to the hospital, she slipped off her porch and broke her ankle.”  

“That’s quite alright Wally.  At least we know even if your late, we’ll still get our feed the same day.”  

Wally grinned brightly, proud that his family’s reputation was so well respected.  “Of course!  Same day delivery or it’s free.  If you want to sign this and tell me where you want your feed, I’ll load it in for you.”  

“That’s not necessary Wally.”  

“We know, but we feel bad for being so late, even if it’s not that late,  what with us being speedsters and all, but still, it’s late for  us , and  we have a reputation to-”  

Bruce held up a hand, and fought back a smile as the teens rambling faded out.  “Okay, okay Wally.  I’ll sign this, and if you just want to move the feed to the shelves in the barn behind me, I’ d  appreciate it.  You’ll see the ones I mean when you go in, one of them is still full.”  

The young Omega saluted; his eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled.  “You got it Mr. Wayne.”  Wally handed him the clip board and the pen, and before Bruce even had a chance to put ink to paper there was a swirl of wind and the pile of feed  was  gone and Wally  wa s standing there, smiling widely.  Bruce shook his head as he signed the paper, handing the board back to Wally.  

Wally t ook  it and rip ped  out the yellow invoice sheet , handing  it to Bruce.  “There  ya  go.  Sorry again for the delay.”  

“That’s quite alright, thank you for putting the feed away for  me .”  

Wally nodded again and turned to leave, but paused before he could take a step.  Bruce could see the hesitation on the teens face, see the blush threatening to overtake his pale skin, making the freckles on his cheeks nearly invisible.  “Was there something else ,  Wally?”  

“Just...wondering if Dick was  go ing to  maybe be free later?”  It’s said in such a rush that Bruce almost misse d  it.  

“He still has chores, but he should be free after dinner.”  

Wally’s responding grin nearly split his face and he nodded.  “Okay.  I’ll swing by later th e n.  Bye Mr. Wayne!” Then he’s gone.  

Bruce shakes his head as he’s left standing alone next to his feed barn, nothing but the chirping birds and the wind rustling between the leaves for company.  He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the young Omega who was showing an interest in his oldest son, but the Allen/West family had been one of the first to welcome them to the community, had made his  second son  laugh for the first time in weeks.  Barry’s youngest boys, Bart and Thad and even managed to get Tim to smile, if only briefly.  He had a soft spot for the whole family at this point, not that he would let them know.  

N ow with a free afternoon ahead of him, since Wally did the job  o f  putting the feed away f or him, Bruce decide d  to head to the big barn and watch his eldest teach his younger siblings how to ride.  It wasn’t easy, by any stretch, but Bruce was starting to enjoy the ranch life.  Just a bit.  

Clark sighed to himself as he was putting the finishing touches on supper .   Mac n’ Cheese .  H e was too tired to make anything else.  One of the goat kids had gotten into one of the feed bags and eaten half the bag before they caught him, and they had to make an emergency vet visit. Trying to comfort 3 upset pups, because one of their pets was sick, while also trying to ignore all the stares he was getting from single Alpha farmers, or farmers with single Alpha children that would  just  love  to meet him.  He loved farming life, he really did, loved the opportunities it gave for his kids to experience the world, but he could definitely do without the backwards societal thinking of the culture.  

Besides, after Lois, he’s not looking to get into another relationship so soon, the bite from their bond had only just finished fading after his last heat.  It’s been just 10 months since Lois left them for her job, choosing her career over their little family.  While of his children, only Jon is biologically hers, he had wondered if Lois had even wanted a pup of their own, or if she had just done it out of some sense of obligation or duty to conform to the standard.  It would of have been just like her, to make herself seem more appealing for promotion.  While male omegas were not uncommon,  they weren’t the norm either , so doing something that would have made their odd little family seem more normal?  Yeah Clark could unfortunately see Lois doing exactly that.  

He sighed again as he dumped the noodles into the strainer, before transferring them back to the pot and adding the cheese, butter, and milk.  He shook his head, trying to rid himself of his melancholy thoughts, annoyed mostly with himself, and partially at the Alpha that brought these thoughts to the surface.  

The wind had carried Bruce’s  scent  to him,  while they had talked,  and  even   though  it hadn’t been the first time he had smelled the Alpha’s mixed scent of cedar, wood smoke, and apples, it had been the first time that he had smelt anger and sadness on the other man.  It made his scent bitter, like burnt coffee.  It had made his hurt heart for the man, and he had to physically restrain himself from reaching out to comfort the obviously grieving alpha, had had to settle for words instead.  

It was the first time, since Lois left, that he felt the urge to comfort anyone that wasn’t his son’s, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it in general.  Let alone feeling that urge for a man that had been an annoying thorn in his side, however inadvertently, for the last two months.  

He picked the pot up, and moved it over to the table, then called out to the living room where the boys were playing quietly.  “Boys, dinner.” He put thoughts of Bruce Wayne, his small grieving, adopted son  –  and how a small part of him still wanted to try and wipe that bitter coffee smell from his scent  – out of his mind,  and focused on making sure his boys were fed and happy.