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Unfortunately, it was never more obvious that Kon had human DNA than in the moments where he got really fucking sick.
And this time he was really down bad, stuck at Ma and Pa’s house, could hardly harness the energy to get up out of bed, much less use any of his powers. The light made his head hurt, eating made him nauseous, and since he normally ran hot, Martha couldn’t really tell if he had a fever. Human medicine didn’t really work, and he doubted that Kryptonian medicine would just fall out of the sky.
He felt pathetic and a little disgusting. Missed his friends, stared at the ceiling of his room, and just felt sorry for himself, for his weird little existence where there was no one else out there that could ever possibly understand what he was going through.
Clark never got sick, never had to go through this feeling of desperately wanting to get better and knowing the only real cure was time.
He tried to sleep it off but sleep was fleeting, just out of his reach, and he tossed and turned in the bed. He opened his eyes when the door creaked open.
“Ma?” He asked, squinted as light from the hallway came into the darkened room. His voice was all scratchy and hoarse, and his normal confidence had fled him.
“Nope,” Came the familiar timbre of,
“Clark?” He tried to sit up and Superman was there, a gentle hand on his head, another on his back.
“Relax,” the man said, his voice low and soft. “Don’t move too fast; you’ll make it worse.” A part of Kon smarted as Clark said that. What did he know about making it worst?
“What are you doing here?” He asked. His hand was holding on to Clark’s arm, keeping him upright as strong muscles shifted under his hand.
“Heard you were sick.” He said like it was obvious, which it wasn’t, there had to be a million other things that the world needed Superman for.
“I’m fine,” Kon said quickly. “could have been contagious,” And Clark chuckled, because why would that matter to him?
Kon didn’t want the man to see him like this. For all the ways in which their relationship struggled, Clark never treated Kon like he was a human. Which wasn’t a bad thing. Clark just never treated him like he was fragile. No to Clark, he was practically Kryptonian, capable of everything that Superman could deal out. But right now, as sick as he was, he felt dreadfully human, vulnerable.
The other half of himself exposed under the eyes of the Man of Steel. He curled inward, a small part of him wondered how would he ever prove to Clark that they could be equals now. The other part of him, the one with the massive crush on the man that had only grown over the years despite Kon trying to crush it was over the moon. Clark made it worst as his hand gently rubbed down his back, as his other hand rubbed through his curls.
“I feel that I always heal better out in the sun,” He said, kind and with a smile and Kon almost groaned.
“The light hurts,” he bit out, and Clark narrowed his eyes.
“There might be something at that fortress that can help,” And Kon let out a pathetic little laugh.
“I’m not really in the condition to get there,” He said, thinking that if he tried to get there right now, he might collapse before he even got out of Kansas.
“I can carry you.”
“Clark,” could only see himself throwing up all over Kal’s family crest.
“I want you to get better.” Clark gripped his chin, tilted his head up, and pinned him down with his eyes. “Let me do this for you.”
And if Superman looked at you like that, could you really say no?
“Ma!” Clark called as he held Kon in his arms, supporting his legs and back. Kon leaned his head against his chest and knew Clark wouldn’t drop him. “I’m taking Connor with me.” He didn’t hear Martha’s response because Clark was already taking off.
To the surprise of no one, he threw up into the snow the moment Clark put him down. Not a lot came out since he didn’t really eat today, but he really took a second to think about burying his face in the hard ice and just taking a nap.
“Come on,” Clark said, his voice soft, gently lifted him from the snow and carried him into the fortress.
“Kon El,” the system said into his ears as it came to life around them. It was always a little overwhelming to be in the fortress, it had all the history of not only Clark’s (their) family but Krypton and Kon couldn’t help but feel like all their spirits were judging him, found him lacking as a legacy.
But at the moment, he mostly focused on the feeling of Clark stroking his hair as he walked through the wide, cold hallways.
When Clark put him down, Kon hated that he missed the warmth. Clark leaned over and pressed his lips against his forehead and Kon's heart stopped for a second.
“It’s okay,” He said, leaning back with a soft smile on his face. “The system is just going to analyze you. It will take just take a second,”
The table underneath him was cold and soft, and he sank into it as Clark conversed with the system over his head. He talked to it like it was a human, questioned it and Kon did try to pay attention but his brain was all fuzzy and Clark’s hand was still resting in his hair.
“It thinks you have the flu,” He said.
“Obviously,” Kon said back, and something like fondness flickered through Clark’s eyes.
“A type of Kryptonian flu.”
“Oh,” Kon said. “So I am contagious.” Clark was laughing at him, the corner of his eyes crinkling.
“Not really,” he said, endlessly patient. “But we can definitely help you,” the room shifted around them, and a pod-like object rises from the floor, filled with liquid. There was a sinking feeling in his chest. This wasn’t the lab where he was raised, this was not Cadmus, no one would punish him, but that didn't stop his heart from wanting to beat out of his chest.
“Do I have to get in that thing?” he asked anyway, and he hoped his voice wasn’t actually as shaky as it sounded in his ears. “I’m not the biggest fan of enclosed spaces.” Understatement.
Clark looked from the pod back to him and understanding swelled in his eyes.
“No, no Kon,” he said. “We can do it another way. Come here,” and then Clark was hugging him, pressing him right against his chest, Kon’s legs curled around his hips. All the jostling made him a little nauseous, but Clark was nothing if not careful. Their faces were angled together and all Kon could look at were the differences between them, how their noses were slightly different, how close their lips were. If he just leaned up a little, he could—. He shut that thought down.
“It might hurt a bit more externally, like a shot.” Kon rolled his eyes, he had grown up being poked and prodded with needles. He could handle whatever this was. “On One,” Superman warned lightly.
Then there was a small prick of pain at the base of his skull and Kon grinned, thinking that was it. But he was never that lucky because then his body began to burn, felt like his blood ignited and he couldn’t stop himself from squirming in Clark’s arms. Clark was immovable, solid, holding him still. Kon could hear his voice, could hear himself begging.
“It’s okay, Kon,” he said. “I got you.” Like Kon was someone that he was saving.
It fucking hurt and Clark wouldn’t let him move away from it. He stifled his whimpers and tried to remain strong, fingers gripping Clark's suit. If the man had been wearing a regular shirt, he would have torn it to pieces.
“It’s almost done,” Clark said into the top of his head. “Just a little longer.” Clark was not lying to him. Gradually the fire faded, leaving him feeling drained, but on the plus side, his headache was finally receding. Clark held him in his arms for a few more minutes, almost seemed like he didn't want to let go before he gently detangled them, laying Kon back on the table.
Kon was already feeling better (bless the Kryptonians and their advancements) but as his head cleared, his actions from the last few minutes came back to him with startling clarity. His face burned.
This was such a bad idea, could recall every embarrassing thing that had fallen out of his mouth. He should have just handled this sickness by himself in his room, had done it before. He wasn't raised to need comfort, certainly not from Clark of all people. Now he felt exposed under the man, knew Clark was nice enough not to bring it up but would most definitely think about it. He better get this out of the way now.
He sat up. He felt a little wobbly, but the nausea was gone. “Look, Clark,” he started, avoiding looking the man in the eye and just focusing his gaze on the red symbol on his chest. “I’m sorry about all that. Thanks," And he really hoped his gratitude came across. "but I’ll go ahead and get out of your,”
“Kon,” Clark said gently, reaching his hand out to tip his head up so Clark could look at his eyes. His thumb swept across his chin, over his lips and Kon felt his eyes widen. “You did not force me to help you, and you do not have to apologize for anything.” His voice was firm. “We can talk once you are all better.” He let him go, and Kon just sat there, holding his gaze. Their eyes were almost the same.
“Okay,” Kon said slowly, tossing the words around in his head. Some stupid part of his brain was lighting up with hope. “You want me to stay?” And Clark tapped gently against his temple.
“Yes.” He said as easy as breathing.