Chapter Text
Clark Kent has a reliably steady schedule. He walks his dog along the outskirts of Central Park at 6am every weekday, starting from Columbus circle and then cutting through the middle of the park when he passes the Heckscher fields. His dog yips when they pass the children’s zoo, and if there are any children who call out to him, he waits and lets them pet his dog. He tells them to be gentle, and talks about elderly dogs needing foster placements. When they’re done at the zoo, his dog, proving to not be as elderly as Clark thinks, makes a bee-line for the ducks in the pond along the south side. Clark, three days out of five, ends up with wet shoes.
On weekends Clark does half the route, then turns and walks through the sheep meadow until he hits the strawberry fields and the Lake; he meanders through the Ramble until he reaches Cedar Hill and finds someplace secluded to sit, tucked into the trees and out of the way of the normal walking paths.
That’s where Kon tracks him to, six months after he’s first started going out in a mask. It took two weeks for him to pin down the general criteria Clark uses for his secluded weekend spots – sunny, but out of the way, so he can unclip his dog’s lead with a soft order of, “stay close,” which the dog actually seems to obey – but considering what Kon wants, needing to know where Clark Kent likes to sit is probably unnecessary. He just needs to know the where, not the why.
Clark normally sits for an hour, soaking in sunlight and writing in his journal or reading a book before he gets back up. On this particular Sunday, he sits for an hour and a half, eyes tracking the sky with a conflicted expression on his face. Kon itches with his impatience, questions tumbling through variations as he waits for Clark to stand back up again.
Plus, the dog keeps sniffing the tree that Kon picked, ears perked and attention drifting to the branches, and there’s only so much his TTK can do to keep branches pulled in front of Kon without looking awkward as hell.
Clark’s whistle makes Kon’s hearing ring, but he’s prepared; he’s got it back by the time Clark’s passing his tree, and it’s easy to let his webline unspool, TTK keeping him perfectly in position as he drops down, snapping himself to a stop in front of Clark’s face. Clark and his dog both yelp, the dog letting out a rough bark as Clark yanks back on his leash, and Kon grins to himself under his mask, eyes narrowed.
“You,” he says, pointing directly at Clark’s face before Clark’s gotten his wits back. “I have a question for you.”
He has so many questions for Clark. They’ve been twisting in his head for weeks, for the two hours he waited in the park, tracking Clark’s pattern, for the month since he figured out Lex hadn’t been telling the whole truth about just who had contributed to his DNA.
But Clark- he just looks worried. There’s a furrow in his brow, a concern to his mouth, and Kon’s been watching him for long enough to know this soft-spoken man has no idea why a teenage vigilante is even being a teenage vigilante. He looks like he’s never been angry in his life, never understood exactly how frustrating answers could be. None of Kon’s questions feel like something he can ask this man, and his brain trips, until the dog nudges forward. Kon latches onto it like a lifeline.
“What’s your dog’s name?”
Clark blinks at him behind his thick glasses, and says, “Oh. Oh! Uh, Krypto.”
Kon blinks back. “What, like crypto currency? Well that’s. Stupid.”
“No-! Um. There was this- tv show I used to watch. It’s from that. Krypto with a K, not a C.”
“With a K.”
“It was about aliens, and that was their home planet. Krypto with a K.” Clark leans down and gently ruffles Krypto’s ears, and the dog leans into his leg with a happy woof, tail wagging. “It was published before crypto currency. And I wasn’t all that up to date on the other contexts when I named him.”
“Not fostered?”
Clark looks at him, a slight narrowing to his eyes, and Kon’s reminded – Lex saw something in Clark Kent, and considering how often Lex talks about ‘surrounding yourself with like-minded individuals’, it’s not a stretch to guess this man is intelligent. Plus, you’know, the fact that he’s literally rich from tracking corporate bounties. That job, when Kon had taken a look into it, seemed complicated – without even taking into account that Clark’s good at it. Good enough that he’s the example on google when you look it up.
“No,” Clark says, “Krypto’s not fostered. When he started getting older, my fiancé and I decided to hold off on fostering for a bit so we could give him our full attention.”
“You don’t think he was used to you bringing in extra friends?”
“I think he likes that his temporary siblings no longer steal his treats. Or his spot on Lois’ lap.” Clark smiles at his own joke, warm and inviting, and then indicates downward. “Would you like to pet him? He’s friendly.”
Kon pauses, because he doesn’t want to give up his spot, and he knows that if he takes the offer he’ll never do what he came here to do. “No, thanks,” he says, and then breathes in and holds it. “I know you track white collar crime when you do your bounty work. There’s-”
“Bounty work?” Clark interrupts, and his voice hovers on a laugh. “Kid, my job’s mostly just accounting-”
“Shh, don’t ruin this for me,” Kon hisses. “Look, I just need help investigating something that Lex-”
“Don’t.” Clark says warningly, and suddenly all of the warmth has slipped out of his tone and his body. “I stay out of Lex’s life and he stays out of mine. I don’t- get involved.” Clark’s stiffness turns into a sadness that pulls Kon’s heart, and Clark mumbles, “I can’t.”
“Fine. Okay. Cool. Whatever.” Kon says, like he’s letting it go, but he can’t. Quickly, he blurts, “You know he has a clone of you, right? Lex’s kid? He’s a clone of you.”
"What?"
"Yeah. Congrats, it's a boy!"
“But- why- he never wanted-”
No. Kon is very much aware that Lex never wanted a kid. Knows that's why he's fifteen and not five, but. Clark had wanted kids. And Lex had wanted to give Clark everything.
What was more 'forever' than a family? It's weird to think of himself as inanimate, but he was always intended as a proposal gift. A final dedication.
Would you have wanted me? Kon thinks to himself, drowning in Clark's shocked expression and hoping it hurts. Wouldn't it have been easier if you'd just been happy with Lex?
“How do you know-” Clark stammers, and Kon shrugs upside down, twining his leg further up the webline so he can grab the file from his jacket pocket. He hands it to Clark, and it’s weird seeing his face on the front of the document, the widow’s peak in his hair that matches Clark’s.
“I don’t need help with Lex specifically, but in my other investigation, I found it,” he says, and it’s not even technically a lie. “You didn’t think about the fact that Lex having a fifteen-year-old would’ve meant he was alive during your relationship?” If Kon had been born the normal way, that is. Had aged the normal way, instead of being grown and stopped at the ‘most effective’ age. If Clark had stayed, maybe Kon would have gotten to grow up normal. But Lex hadn’t needed – hadn’t wanted – a baby, and at least a teenager knew how to take care of themselves.
"I need to-" Clark starts, his face painfully pale. "I'm sorry, son, I'm- I need to go."
"Sure," Kon says, and uses his TTK to condense his web, the line pulling him back up into the trees. None of this feels as satisfying as he wants, and Clark's stumble as he tries to get his feet working is just awkward. Plus, that- that word choice.
Son.
So classically southern, the same as Clark’s use of the word kid, but. Kon’s stomach is twisting, a bitter taste coating his tongue and his words. “Don't let me keep you, Krypto and Kent. Oh, and hey! Let the kid know if he needs a rescue, you'know, from being a science experiment, I'm New York's best evil scientist escape machine.”
"Rescue," Clark mumbles, and Kon scowls.
“What, you didn’t think I got superpowers the easy way, did you?” he says, trying to keep his voice light but all too aware he’s not doing a good job. “Give your friendly neighbourhood Spider a call if you ever decide you want shared custody.”
“Yeah,” Clark says, and Kon watches him for another moment longer, wondering if they look the same when they’re shocked, stumbling, struggling. Wondering if Lex sees Clark in him – if that was why he wanted Kon to be older. So he could compare their frowns and never have Clark leave.
But what’s the point of asking that? Lex will never tell him, and until Clark makes a choice, Kon will never know the ramifications of asking Clark to choose. Is knowing his pseudo-son enough of a reason to amend his relationship with Lex?
Or is Kon still never going to be enough?