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Clark gets a sick feeling on his stomach when he thinks about Conner, and he’s not sure he wants to know its origin. He represses it as best he can, most of the time.
He asked his parents to take Conner in. He's not sure why — Lois and him have the space, they moved to a bigger place after they got married, and he knows she likes Conner enough that she'd let him stay. They haven't talked about it, but there are certain ways Lois will look at him that tell him all she doesn’t think he wants to hear.
It’s very difficult to have serious conversations when the sick feeling on his stomach won't disappear.
*
He visits Conner, often.
Not as much as he should — there's guilt, on the back of his throat, whenever he thinks about what he owes to Conner — but as often as he can. They talk, sometimes. Sometimes they don't, and Clark leaves feeling wrong-footed.
"For how long have you and Luthor been fighting each other?" Conner asks one day, sitting near him as Clark fixes his dad's truck — again. It doesn't work as often as it does, but Clark finds it therapeutic to fix it, so he hasn't suggested they get rid of it yet. Right now, he might need its effects. "I tried to research it, but it was kinda vague."
It was vague because Luthor pays to have articles wiped from the internet. Clark muses on it for a bit, considering whether Conner would get offended if Clark gave him the old copies of the newspapers of that era he and Lois have lying around the house. "Since I got to Metropolis, basically. A few years after I finished high school."
"So, a long-ass time," Conner says, sounding miserable.
"Well, yes," Clark says. "But that has — nothing to do with you."
It's the wrong thing to say. He can see, through the truck, the way Conner gets angry, sticks his hands in his pockets like it will stop him from breaking something. "Sure, he only created me so he could use me against you, but it has nothing to do with me—"
"I didn't mean it like that," Clark says, fast. He gets out from under the truck, sits next to him. There have been times where he has had a hard time even being around Conner, but right now he only sees a miserable teenager. He puts a hand on his shoulder, and it seems to help. "I just meant that — it says nothing about you, okay? Your existence is a good thing, even if — even if Luthor didn't have good intentions."
"You can't even look at me most of the time, don't fucking lie. You’re terrified I will turn against you."
Clark closes his eyes, not sure of what to do with Conner's anger. Clark was never an angry teenager — he was mostly sad. Confused by his existence. "When I was a teen," Clark says, grabbing the thread of his thoughts even if he doesn't know where it will lead him, "I was very lonely. I didn't understand my powers, and sometimes couldn't control them. I wasn’t very good at making friends, and I was afraid people would find out about me. My parents always told me to be careful — they insisted on it. And I thought that meant they were ashamed of me.
"They weren't, of course. They were nervous and worried, but they weren't ashamed. So — I'm worried that Lex will hurt you to manipulate me. I'm worried he will try to use you as a pawn. But I'm not worried you will ever betray me, and I'm not worried you will not be a good person. I know you are."
Conner is red, not looking at him. Clark is not sure if he's red because of the compliment or because he's angry. "But you don't like that he made me."
Clark sighs, not sure of how to make him understand. It's deeply unfair that he found out he had a — son-like figure when the child was already a teenager, smart and able to understand all Clark felt. He thinks if Conner had been a baby he might have been able to hide his feelings better by the time he was able to understand his situation, but Conner knew Clark wasn't comfortable with his existence before they were even sure he was his clone.
It's not fair.
"I don't like that he stole my DNA and used it behind my back to create you, no. It makes me feel — uncomfortable. But all of those negative feelings are pointed towards Luthor, not towards you."
He never knows how honest to be with Conner, but he thinks he's being as truthful as he can be. Conner seems to know when he's lying, maybe a clone thing or maybe a Kryptonian thing.
"Kara and I—" Clark continues, trying to make him understand. "Kara and I really love each other, you know? She's one of the other Kryptonians left, and she knows things about our history that I could never know without her. We both try to teach each other the things the other one doesn't know."
"Yeah," Conner says, again looking away from Clark. "Yeah, I know."
"But she fucking hates me sometimes." Conner is startled into a laugh, looking up at Clark. Clark looks back, smiling. He can't feel uncomfortable about Conner when he looks like this — innocent, carefree. Happy. "I'm not saying that I hate you, of course. I'm saying that I get it, because she got here expecting, at most, to find her baby cousin to have to take care of. And instead I'm an adult, and a superhero, and that puts expectations on her that I never wanted her to have. You know?" <
Conner nods. "Family is complicated, I guess."
"It is," Clark shrugs. "But — you and I. We are family, even if it's complicated. Alright?"
Conner nods, looking away again. Clark desperately wants to fix it, but he doesn't think he will ever be able to, not fully. "Come to dinner."
His eyes open, turning around, checking that Clark is serious. "Huh?"
"Come to dinner, with Lois and I. I'll cook — even with all the Kryptonian in you, I don't think you could stomach Lois' cooking — you can stay the night, if you want to. Ma won't mind. And you'll be close to Gotham, if you wanna visit Tim tomorrow. Do you want to?"
"Do I want to visit Tim tomorrow?" Conner asks, confused. "I mean, sure, we’re pals."
"Do you want to come to dinner," Clark corrects him, gently.
Conner doubts. He then shrugs. "Sure," Conner says. "I like talking to Lois."
Clark thanks the heavens for his wife, which he does often. "Good," he says. "Great, that's — really good. We can fly to Metropolis together."
*
Dinner goes better than Clark expected. Lois doesn't show her surprise at having a dinner guest, and she's the one who entertains Conner while Clark cooks, showing him around the apartment and telling him embarrassing stories about Clark to make him feel comfortable. By the time dinner is ready, they already have a conversation running, and all Clark has to do is smile and nod every once in a while. It's nice.
"So," Lois asks after dinner, when Conner is sleeping — Clark made sure of it before he let her start the conversation. "I know we haven't talked about — can he hear us? Does he have that power?"
"He does, but he's asleep."
"He can't hear us while he sleeps?" Lois asks, a cagey look on her face.
"Can I hear you while I sleep?"
"No, but I always assume you ignore me because you're cranky," Lois answers, an old joke between them. "We all know how much you hate sunlight, and waking up."
"Right," Clark says. He's still looking at Kon sleeping through the wall, something he knows he'll have to stop doing if this becomes routine. "Of course."
"Clark," Lois says. She doesn't continue, so Clark looks at her. "How are you feeling?"
Clark sighs. He hates when she asks that. "I'm fine. Look, I don't love that Luthor used my DNA—"
"You can say if it made you feel violated, or something, you know. You don't have to downplay your feelings with me. I’m your wife."
Lois is a good journalist, and she is good at finding out what people are hiding from her. It's good for their relationship, most of the time, but sometimes Clark wishes he could repress his feelings a bit more.
"Alright, yes. It made me feel — like that. But he's a good kid, you know? I like him. His personality is so much bigger than I let mine be, at his age. I just wish things were easier."
"He can stay over whenever you'd like, you know?" Lois says, a hand between Clark's shoulder blades. "Even if that means it would be permanently."
Clark doesn't know how to reply to that. He doesn't know what he wants, and he is saved from answering by a big, metallic sound somewhere in the city. He can see Kon startle awake, but Lois doesn't seem to hear it.
“On it, Supes,” Kon says, low enough Lois won’t hear. Clark doesn’t know if it was on purpose, or if he just didn’t take into account she’d also want to know.
"Problems. We’re leaving," Clark warns her, thankful that he sleeps with the costume on under his pajamas. He quickly puts on the cape, flying over Lois. He can see Kon already waiting outside the window. "We'll be right back. Don't wait up."
"Which one is it?" Lois teases, looking out the window as he joins Kon. She speaks in a whisper once they’re already flying away, knowing he can hear her. "I'll wait up. We'll speak."
Clark looks at Kon, who seems almost excited for the fight as they go find the giant robot wreaking havoc in the city. He thinks he might be okay with finishing the conversation.