Archive of Our Own ^beta

We didn’t make it out unscathed.

Clark’s words echoed in Jon’s head, a thrumming beat pounding along with his heart, even as he heard Metallo talking to his sister. Even as he focused his hearing on the area around Clark and found the twin’s own hearts beating only a few feet away.

For the first time in what felt like days, Jon sat down, not even bothering to find a piece of rubble or anything to use as a seat. He sat down right where he was, eyes sinking shut with a heaved breath.

Unscathed, Clark had said, and Jon’s stomach had dropped into his shoes.

He’d spent the last couple of hours fighting puppet versions of Metallo, desperately hoping that Clark would make it to the twins in time to save them where Jon hadn’t. Hearing Clark’s serious tone, those words, knowing that the twins had been in trouble—Jon had felt as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff without his powers until he’d managed to convince himself to search for the right heartbeats.

Now, it finally felt like he could breathe again. Like he could honestly believe that he hadn’t just gotten his parents’ new kids killed. It’d been one thing to hear Aunt Kara say that the twins were alright, but it was another to know that they were still doing okay after the fight was really over.

If Jon was being honest, he wasn’t sure if he was trembling from the exhaustion of fighting off all of Metallo's drones or from the stress of thinking he’d fucked up so badly.

What would he have done if anything worse than just being kidnapped had happened to Osul and Otho while he was supposed to be watching them? He’d probably driven Otho right out the door with whatever he’d done to make Osul think he hated them, making her think that he wouldn’t trust or take her seriously if she’d said something to him. It’d have been entirely on him if either of them were hurt.

Even with his responsibility for them aside, Jon didn’t want the last real conversation he’d had with Osul to be one where Osul had to be reassured that Jon didn’t hate him for taking Clark and Lois away. It wasn’t fair to Osul that he’d even had to think of that in the first place, but it was worse that Jon hadn’t even had the chance to really explain things to Osul properly before everything had gone nuts.

He’d tried, had given the best little speech he could think of on the fly after being blindsided with a question like that, but then Otho had left, and Metallo had gotten his hands on them, and Jon had felt like he’d swallowed a hunk of kryptonite with how guilty he’d felt for not being able to protect them. For not only fucking up in his new role as an older brother, but in his role as Superman.

Clark getting them back wasn’t enough. Not when he could still hear Osul asking if Jon hated him and his sister in a voice that was already resigned to the answer, too heavy for a little kid like him.

And now, what?

He was supposed to go home and see the twins? To just fly on back, shower, and head to bed like he hadn't lost them?

But if he didn't, what else would he do, try to talk to them about it?

The idea of trying to apologize made Jon's stomach turn.

There wasn't an apology in the world that could make up for any of it. Not for making Osul feel unwelcome, not for letting Otho sneak off by herself, and definitely not for being too weak to save them when they needed him. Anything that he did come up with would be a pathetic jumble of nonsense.

Osul would probably forgive him anyway, because he was just that kind of a kid, but Jon wasn't sure which was worse, Osul forgiving him so easily or the way that Otho would stare at him. That look of hers that said someone had hurt her brother and she wouldn’t forget about it.

Jon wasn't scared of Otho, but he knew that look would make him feel even more sick with guilt than he already was, and a small, cowardly part of him wanted to avoid that for as long as possible.

But he couldn’t just stay there in the middle of the rubble. The others were already moving to leave, Nat and Aunt Kara hovering a few yards above the ground, Kenan long gone to help the sole survivor of Metallo’s puppetry.

With a deep breath, Jon pushed himself up, dusted off his suit a bit, and lifted off the ground to join Kara and Nat in the air.

“I’m gonna head to Steelworks to meet up with Uncle John,” Nat said as Jon hovered into place. “You’re both doing okay, right? No Kryptonite damage?”

“Nothing that wasn’t there before I joined the fight,” Kara said.

“M’all good,” Jon said. “You?”

Nat knocked her knuckles against the front of her suit. “Not even a dent.”

“Hopefully Steel’s held up that well. You guys will have to update me later on everyone’s conditions,” Kara said.

“I’ll text if I don’t crash the second I get home.”

“You should text Mom about Dad and the others, Aunt Kara,” Jon said. “I think I’m just gonna head to Jay’s.”

Kara’s smile slipped a little, her hands moving to her hips. “Don’t you think Lois would rather you went home?”

“Dad, the twins, and I are all gonna want showers, and maybe Mom, too. The apartment only has two. It just makes more sense for me to go to Jay’s then try to fit in there.” Jon shrugged.

“Whatever you wanna do, but I’m going straight home,” Nat said. “I’m tired.”

With another look at Jon, Kara gave Nat a nod, and Jon reached over to squeeze her metallic shoulder.

Then she was gone, flying off towards Steelworks.

Kara’s eyes flicked immediately back to him. Jon could see the similarities in her and Clark, the way that concern etched into their eyebrows instead of a frown.

“Is he even home, or is he at Steelworks too?” Kara asked.

Jon shrugged reluctantly. His shoulders were aching from how many times he’d had to punch things with his invulnerability compromised from Kryptonite, and it was getting harder to ignore it now that his adrenaline was fading.

Once he got to Jay’s, he could borrow the heating pad and see if that would help. Jay had a habit of using it for when old aches from Bendix’s experiments were acting up, so he’d grab it for Jon in a heartbeat once he saw Jon wincing with every other movement, grumbling like an old man.

The thought snagged in Jon’s chest as Kara sighed, making Jon glance up in the direction of Jay’s apartment.

Did he really want Jay to see him like this?

He’d promised to try to be more invulnerable, to give Jay fewer things to worry about, not more. Showing up at his place looking like death warmed over would definitely not count.

And Jay had a way of seeing straight through Jon, of being able to pull him apart and find the exact things that he didn't want him to, and Jon wasn’t really sure if he could handle that right now. He knew that if he asked, Jay would let things go until he wasn’t so utterly spent, but that would just be confirming that something was wrong. Whatever flimsy dams Jon had built up would burst either way.

His entire body recoiling at just the thought of how his fear and guilt and exhaustion would spill out—probably in tears, which was one of Jon’s least favorite ways to break down—Jon rubbed at his sore arm.

He still didn’t want to go home yet, but if he wasn’t heading either there or to Jay’s…

Glancing back at Kara, Jon found her hovering with her arms crossed, looking right back at him with an expression that made Jon want to just leave before she super-sped them both to the Kents’ apartment.

Worried-Aunt wasn’t a look Kara got a lot, but Jon knew it when he saw it.

“Just promise you won’t pass out or anything with nobody there,” She said, making Jon’s stomach twist.

He lifted one hand. “I won’t. Scout’s honor.”

Both of them knew that he’d never been a boy scout, but considering who his father was, Jon felt like it at least counted a little bit.

And Kara must’ve agreed, because with a little flicker of a wry smile, she drifted further away.

“If you start to feel anything from all the Kryptonite today, give somebody a shout, okay?”

“I will,” Jon said.

Then, with a nod, Kara was gone.

Jon hovered in mid-air for a second. Just breathed, inhaling properly after hours of getting lungfuls of dust and ash during the fight. Steadied his exhausted body as best he could.

He knew now that he didn’t really want to go to Jay’s, especially not if Jay was there, but that kind of limited his already-limited options for a proper shower and any sort of rest. It was basically just his parents’ place, Jay’s place, or somewhere outside of Metropolis.

And as much as Jon kind of wanted to go to the Fortress just to get some time with genuinely fresh air and some peace and quiet to think, he knew that he wasn’t really feeling up for that sort of flight.

Instead, he turned towards the Daily Planet and told himself that of everyone in the family, there were people he could annoy more by showing up with no warning.

Kon’s apartment was downtown, a ninth-floor place smack in the middle of the bustle of the city, with a small balcony that Kon had picked the place specifically for. A good landing spot, he’d said.

It always felt like the perfect place for him. Busy and loud, but calm inside. Smooth white floors and cabinets that’d been covered with rugs and drawings Kon had gotten from kids he’d saved, something that Jon suspected he did because the white reminded him a little too much of Cadmus, would place money on because he’d seen Jay do the same thing because of Bendix. A cozy couch and big chairs and an environment that said I’m made for having friends over.

Like Clark and Lois’ apartment, Kon’s even had two bedrooms. One was decked out in everything Kon while the other was just a nice guest room, comfortable and lived-in enough that it didn’t feel like a hotel. 

Jon didn’t fully know where Kon’d gotten the money for a place like this, only barely knew that it had something to do with some fund that Clark had helped him set up back when he’d first arrived, but he wasn’t complaining when he finally touched down on the balcony. The fact that Kon always liked having people over and had enough space that Jon didn’t feel like he’d be completely intruding were the only things that’d convinced him to come by.

Part of him still felt a little guilty about it when he rapped his knuckles gently against the glass sliding door of the balcony, but it faded slightly when Kon popped his head out from his bedroom with a wry grin, still dressed in his Superboy suit and covered in plenty of dust himself.

He didn’t look too bothered as he pressed his palm to the wall beside him and the door slid open.

A piece of the guilt in Jon’s chest melted, a chip falling from an iceberg.

“Hey, kid,” Kon said, like Jon wasn’t roughly two years younger than him these days, if that. “If you’re here because you heard me ordering pizza, just know that I only got enough for one hungry Super.”

Jon managed a smile. “I’m good.”

Stepping out into the room, peeling one glove off, Kon gestured to the fridge.

“Good. Then you know where the soda is, I’ve got some chips in the cupboard, there’s some cookies from Ma in the fridge, and you can steal a shower in the guest room.”

“Who said I need a shower?”

“You’re crashing here, right?” Kon asked. When Jon’s expression flickered, Kon shrugged. “None of my business. My guest room’s open whenever you want it.”

He said it like it easily, matter-of-factly. 

Like it was the most basic thing in the world, like Jon hadn’t been full of dread the whole way over because he’d felt like he was gonna bug Kon, like the sky was blue and the Earth was round and Kon’s apartment always had room for Jon.

“You really like guests, huh?” Jon asked, half-kidding.

But Kon just nodded.

“I didn’t have many places to go when I was younger,” He said. “And it’s not like I’d be much of a Kent if I didn’t have a place for family.”

That made Jon give in, just glancing back over his shoulder at the Metropolis skyline past the balcony as Kon moved to shrug off his dust-covered jacket.

And Jon really did have to go shower. Sleeping after would be even better, and maybe forcing Kon to make him some pancakes after they’d both crashed for long enough to recover from fighting Metallo and his creepy bot things.

But the trip from A-town to Kon’s apartment hadn’t been short, and Jon had had plenty of time to think over what he’d done and hadn’t been able to do.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but before Kon could vanish back into his room, Jon asked, “On your original world, were you around when I was born?”

If nothing else, it caught Kon’s attention.

He grimaced, eyebrows raising as he brushed a hand over his jacket to try to clean it off a bit.

“Uh—I gotta admit, I wasn’t really this close to that Clark and Lois, but I’m pretty sure someone would’ve mentioned a Super baby to me, so I’m gonna go with no,” He said.

With a sinking stomach, Jon moved towards the kitchen counter, arms crossed. That was one of the few downsides to having his secret identity back; He couldn’t really go flying around in civilian clothes, which made it really hard to express his disappointment by jamming his hands into his pockets like he used to.

But he could still slip onto one of Kon’s barstools and slump over, head on the counter with his hands under him. It was strangely cathartic.

It also reminded him of Ma and Pa’s, in the weirdest way. Like when he was still a kid and would flop down while trying to do his homework, only for Ma to take the seat next to him and walk him through each question. Like when he’d get worried about his dad, off on some Justice League thing, and Pa would give him a hug while starting on about some other time that the odds had seemed stacked against Clark and he’d won anyway.

Maybe it was just that this was Kon’s place, and Kon always seemed to carry a little piece of the farm with him, a comforting sense of home in everything from how he talked to the way he kept cozy blankets on the couch and the ingredients for Ma’s favorite soup in the cupboard. His apartment always smelled a little like the farm, too, like Kon carried the fresh air and rustic furniture all the way back to Metropolis whenever he visited.

Or maybe it was that Jon felt like a kid again, helplessly trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong and how he was supposed to fix it now. It would be nice if he could just spill his guts, then let his family fix his screw-ups for him.

He’d never wanted Osul and Otho to feel like he didn’t want them around. He’d never meant to make Osul think he was upset with them or that he wasn’t open to them being family, because he was.

It was just more complicated than it should’ve been, thanks to how Jon grew up so fast. There was the tiniest, smallest shred of him that felt a little sick at the idea of his parents getting a do-over with other kids. Kids who would grow up normally, who’d have middle school and high school and proms and teenager problems like curfews instead of volcanoes. Who were almost the same age as he’d been when he’d left.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, there was a little part of him that was jealous, and he didn’t even know if he was jealous of Otho and Osul for getting those years with his parents or jealous that Clark and Lois had welcomed the twins so easily without even talking about it with him beforehand.

He never would’ve said no, but he’d have at least liked to have been able to discuss it with them first. To get his thoughts in order and work out his concerns with them.

Then there was the fact that Jon had spent months on Earth thinking that he'd seen his dad for the last time, that Clark's stories ending when they did when Jon had visited the future meant that Clark was gone for good.

Jon had gone through huge, life-shaping events while Clark was gone. He'd met Jay, discovered a part of himself that he'd never even thought of before, lost control of his powers, and fought an island-worth of mind-controlled human experiments to give Jay a chance to save his home. He'd let the farm explode, had to defend his mom on live television, had someone die in his arms because he wasn't fast enough to free them from a chip in their head. Had made friends and enemies and done so many things that he just wanted to tell Clark about.

But Clark hadn't been there.

And Jon was used to that, had to be, because his dad was Superman.

But when he finally did come back, after Jon had already, in his own way, begun to grieve, it wasn't to make things go back to the way they used to be. It'd been to introduce two brand-new elements into a life that Jon had just barely gotten back after his time in the volcano.

Jon had never been good at letting go, but it was even worse to finally start to let something slip through his fingers, just for it to ricochet back as something completely different.

Even just the fact that the twins had been set up in Jon's bedroom could’ve been handled better. He might’ve even just said they could have his room and talked to Jay about moving in together in Jay’s city apartment. He was eighteen, plus it was only a short distance away, and Jay was back to living in Metropolis part-time since he was working with Steelworks.

It would’ve even been enough to have had some solo time with his parents since his dad got back that didn’t involve him being in a super-hospital or them taking down bad guys. It felt like it’d been ages since Jon last had time with just Clark outside of Superman. Even when he’d tried to set up a game of coneyball with just them, Clark’d automatically added in Otho and Osul.

Jon couldn’t admit that he’d been disappointed. Not when he knew how important it was to welcome Otho and Osul into the family and what they’d gone through before Clark found them. They were just kids, and they needed time with their parents just like Jon did.

He just wished it felt like there was more of Clark and Lois to go around, like they weren’t stretching themselves so thin with the paper and Superman and the twins and everything else that they couldn’t reach Jon too.

But all of that was why he’d asked Kon about his experiences with a younger Jon. It wasn’t exactly the same, but he’d been hoping that Kon would have some sort of wisdom.

He just hadn’t really expected to hear that he hadn’t even existed on Kon’s world.

With a quiet groan, Jon pressed his forehead against the countertop and slipped his hands up to rub at the back of his head.

Beside him, the other stool creaked.

Jon didn’t have to look up to know Kon was watching him. Something sour curled between Jon’s ribs at the idea that he was keeping Kon from resting, but he didn’t want to have to sit alone with his own thoughts, either.

Instead, he asked the counter, “How do you deal with surprise siblings?”

The only response he got was Kon’s low whistle, making him sigh.

“That is about the twins?” Kon asked.

“I let them get kidnapped,” Jon said. “And Osul thought I hated him.”

He turned his head, ignoring Kon’s silence to stare at the fridge. A little kid’s drawing of what was probably Young Justice was hanging right on the front, with another beside it of Krypto with four balloon-like legs, and a few more with Kon’s friends and family all hung up with colorful little magnets that made sure as much of the drawings were visible as possible.

A part of Jon wondered if the twins would draw stuff like that if given the chance, if someone sat down with them and just did crafts for a while, showing them how to draw Krypto and Clark and the Daily Planet. They were older than the kids who’d made the fridge drawings most likely were, but the twins had probably never even drawn a stick-figure before.

There were probably dozens of things like that with the twins that Jon hadn’t yet thought of, that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to take the time to consider. Lots of things that big brothers were supposed to teach their little siblings.

He knew that Ma would love to have drawings from them to save with Jon’s and Clark’s. She never said it outloud, but one of her least favorite parts of how she and Pa got Kon was that she didn’t have any of those tangible little-kid memories from him.

And Clark and Lois would encourage them both to keep practicing, hanging every single one up just like Kon had done with his fan-gifts and like the whole family had done when Jon was small.

Would the twins draw anything for Jon, if given the chance? After letting them down, making them feel unwanted, would he still get pictures to tape up in his room?

Osul would probably draw him and Jay. He was quick to forgive, his trust less worn than his sister’s thanks to how hard she had worked to keep him safe, and he’d liked Jay the few times they’d met. He’d been fascinated by Jay’s ability to phase through things.

But what, or if, Otho would draw for him, Jon had no idea. She was protective and held grudges. Even if she wasn’t angry with Jon for how he’d treated her, there was a decent chance that she’d still be mad at him for upsetting Osul and for letting them get taken. Just the fact that he hadn’t believed she’d had a good reason for attacking the man who wound up being Metallo’s drone was a good enough reason for her to be a bit bitter.

The twins were heroes, they’d proven that much, but he hadn’t trusted her judgment. He hadn’t even hesitated before moving in to take the man to the hospital.

If he had, maybe things would’ve gone differently. He could’ve been better prepared for Metallo if he hadn’t been hit by that drone right off the bat. He might’ve been able to do something to save the twins.

The worst part was that they hadn’t even screamed when they were grabbed. They hadn’t yelled or reached out like they were scared.

Maybe it was just because of how quickly Metallo had managed to snatch them up, but a brittle little part of Jon wondered if it was because the twins just hadn’t expected him to save them at all.

With a deep breath, Jon looked back to Kon, who was frowning.

“What am I supposed to do? How do I fix something I messed up so badly?” Jon asked.

“Are you sure they’re even mad?” Kon asked.

“Otho probably is.” Shaking his head, Jon brushed dirt from his sleeve. “Osul’s too kind to hold a grudge, even when someone deserves it.”

“They’re not stupid, though. They’ve gotta know that you couldn’t have possibly stopped Metallo by yourself.”

“But what about before that, when I made them think I didn’t want them around?”

His frown deepening, Kon slipped off his stool and moved into the kitchen. Jon wasn’t surprised when he opened the fridge and pulled out a tupperware from the farm, half-filled with cookies. He pressed his shoulder against the fridge and a jug of milk slid forwards until it toppled right off the shelf and onto the tupperware’s lid.

The fridge door shut with a swoosh. A second later, Kon set the tupperware and the milk down by Jon, went and got two cups, and clanked those down too.

Even as casual as it was, Jon could still tell that Kon was giving himself a second to think.

“Listen, Jon…if you’re looking for advice, I’m not really sure if I’m the right person,” Kon said as Jon took a cookie. “Maybe you should check with Damian. He’d probably know more than I do about handling sudden siblings.”

“The way he handled it was to toss Tim off a dinosaur, and Tim handled it by putting him on a hit list, which I know from personal experience with him is terrifying. The Bats are, like, the last place I’d go to for advice,” Jon said doubtfully.

“I just don’t really think I can be much help. You and I aren’t the same as you and the twins, y’know? I don’t have folks, and even if Clark was my dad, you were around way before me. Lois and Clark were your parents before they were anyone else’s.”

His stomach sinking, Jon took the glass of milk Kon offered him. “So I’m still on my own.”

“I’m sorry. If you ever need advice on handling clones, I’m your man, but siblings?” Kon shrugged. “I’m outta my element.”

With a sigh, putting the rest of his cookie in his mouth and stealing another, Jon moved to stand.

At the very least, he could head back to his parents’ apartment. Maybe if he just let the twins lead the conversation, he could decide what to say on the fly.

He was Superman, right? And Superman could handle something like this, no problem. Whether it was an apology or an explanation or what, he could figure it out when he got home and saw how the twins were doing.

But he’d barely stood before Kon was gesturing for him to wait. “Dude, you can’t just run off. I might not have answers, but you’re exhausted. Go shower. Maybe take a nap. Seriously, man, you look like you got run over by a Kryptonite-powered train.”

“I don’t wanna let this go,” Jon said.

“You won’t, but dealing with it before you’ve even changed out of your suit isn’t gonna help anybody.”

Chest tightening, Jon glanced down at the remnants of the fight left on his suit and grimaced. His face was probably equally as dusty.

Kon pointed his thumb towards the guest room. “Take five. It’ll give you some more time to think, too.”

And that was probably a good idea, thinking more, but Jon was pretty sure his brain would just keep running in circles. He’d only come up with more ways that he’d screwed up and more reasons for the twins to hate him.

But instead of saying that, Jon shook his head.

“Mom’ll be waiting on me.”

“If you think Clark doesn’t know exactly where you are, you must’ve gotten punched by one of those drones harder than you thought,” Kon said. “He’ll tell Lois.”

Hesitantly, glancing up and towards the Kents’ apartment as if his X-ray vision could reach that far, Jon took a deep breath. Kon slipped around the counter to stand in front of Jon, and Jon’s eyes prickled.

With a wry smile, Kon put his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Listen…in the wise words of one Ma Kent, I’ll ask you, did you do this, or did this happen?”

Jon swallowed hard.

“I did this,” He said.

“Nah.” Kon shook his head. “It happened. Maybe you could’ve been nicer to the twins, sure, but them getting grabbed by Metallo wasn’t your fault, Jon. You couldn’t have stopped it. You couldn’t have saved them yourself without risking a lot of other lives down in A-town. Everyone played their part to handle something that we couldn’t have prevented, and because of that, the twins are home safe.”

“If I’d just watched Otho like I was supposed to—”

“Then Metallo’s drones would’ve hurt people, or destroyed stuff, or done something else to get our attention. And it’s not like the twins wouldn’t have been there. They would never just sit out of a fight like that, not when they’re your parents’ kids, now.”

With a frustrated, guilty twist in his chest, Jon looked down.

He wasn’t honestly sure which was worse, the idea that he could’ve saved the twins and didn’t, or that he genuinely hadn’t done anything wrong.

As much as he didn’t want to be the one who put them in danger, at least that would mean that he could probably save them the next time if he just learned from his mistakes and did better.

If he didn’t do anything wrong, then that meant that it could happen again, and he wouldn’t be able to just do better, be better, to stop it.

And him not being responsible for the twins being kidnapped didn’t do anything to make him feel better about Osul’s quiet acceptance that Jon didn’t like him or his sister. It didn’t fix the fact that Jon had been fucking up since the twins had arrived and hadn’t even realized it.

His hands were beginning to shake. He curled them into tight fists and took a deep breath, but it didn’t do anything to stop tears from welling up.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed, and Jon folded forwards, burying his face in Kon’s shoulder.

Kon hugged him back tightly, a mix of Clark’s arms and Ma’s comforting way of holding the back of someone’s head with the added bonus of Pa’s influence in how Kon rocked them slightly from side-to-side. He didn’t seem to mind that Jon was covered in dust and grime, and it might’ve just been because Kon was too, but Jon was pretty sure it wouldn’t have mattered even if he wasn’t.

Maybe Kon wasn’t the right person to ask about siblings, but he was good at being a brother when Jon needed him.

Jon left when Kon’s pizza arrived, having showered and changed into borrowed clothes, his suit tucked under his arm.

It was later then he’d really meant it to be, but the cool breeze ghosting through his still-wet hair on the flight home was a nice bonus. It helped clear his mind as he listened for the sounds of his family.

Distantly, he could hear Kon watching old reruns of some show one of his friends had been on as an extra. Aunt Kara was humming to herself as she made dinner. Nat and John were at Steelworks, which Jon couldn’t be surprised by, John chatting with Lana and Nat listening to music as she worked on something in one of the labs. Kenan was out of immediate range, but Jon could imagine he was probably either asleep or unnecessarily lifting weights.

Closer, though, were the sounds from the Kents’ apartment. Familiar ones, from a family movie night. The TV running a movie that Jon couldn’t place while Clark, Lois, and the twins’ heartbeats thrummed evenly nearby.

Jon landed only a brief moment later.

It was dark, so he didn’t bother to try to hide his descent too much. He just opened his bedroom window and slid easily inside, then shut it behind him, hovering to not trip on Osul and Otho’s things where they were laying on the floor.

Krypto was waiting right outside the bedroom door after he dropped his suit on the floor by his hamper and slipped out of the room. Tail tumping against the ground, he panted, and Jon crouched to rub his belly.

“Good boy.” He murmured, glancing up to see everyone in the living room. Lois gave him a little wave from the furthest cushion. “C’mon.”

They went the rest of the way into the living room, Krypto leading the way before breaking off to go to the kitchen. Jon went around the back of the couch, towards his mom, eyes still flicking over the room.

His spot on the couch used to be the one right beside Clark. When he was little, he’d curl up with Clark’s arm around him, Lois on Clark’s other side. They’d sit and watch movies for hours, just the three of them.

Now, his old spot on the couch was Osul’s, and Otho was sitting between Lois and Clark, effectively filling up the cushions.

A pang ran through Jon’s chest, but it was more bittersweet than anything.

“Hey,” Jon said quietly, leaning down to kiss Lois’ forehead. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No worries, kiddo. We were just about to pause for a popcorn break anyway,” Lois said with a smile.

Clark motioned for the remote, and Osul slipped easily forwards to grab it for him, saying, “I still do not understand why they cannot just destroy the monsters. They have so many weapons!”

“Pay more attention! They did destroy them, but the monsters continued to come back. They must cut it off at the source,” Otho said.

“I still say Pacific Rim might be a little too much for one of our first movie nights,” Clark said as he stood, stretching his arms over his head.

“I watched it when I was their age,” Jon said.

“You also slept in our room for a week after, scared that your father was gonna throw himself through a rift and get trapped.” Lois pointed out. “But Osul Fight-master requested something with explosions to calm down from the fight, so we’re giving it a shot.”

“I requested explosions, but not to calm us,” Osul said.

“Good, because that’s not quite how it works, bud,” Clark said. “Calming would be a nice documentary. Maybe a Disney movie.”

"That is the one with the evil rodent, yes?" Otho asked.

Lois made a face. "Well…"

"Michael," Osul said sagely.

"Conner is no longer allowed to teach you things," Clark said, heading for the kitchen with Osul in tow.

With a snort, Jon dropped down into the chair off to the side of the rug. It wasn’t on the couch, wasn’t even close to being his spot, but he couldn’t really bring himself to mind. It gave him a good view of both the TV and the kitchen, where Osul had resorted to sitting crossed-legged in midair to pepper Clark with questions. He’d also learned that from Kon, Jon was sure.

If Jon's first reaction to meeting Kon hadn't been to say that Clark had replaced him with a newer, cooler version with a badass jacket, maybe he'd have been offended that Osul seemed to be taking so much of Kon's advice and mannerisms and none of Jon's.

“I’m going to check my email real quick. Clark, hun, press play without me if I’m not back,” Lois said, staring at her phone as she stood. She had a look on her face that said she was about to get sucked down some rabbit hole. “I’ve seen it.”

From the fridge, Clark called an okay, but Lois was already vanishing into their room, where Jon knew she’d boot up her laptop and get lost in a mess of work-stuff. He was used to that routine, though it was worse these days than it’d ever been when Jon was younger.

The door closed behind Lois with a click. Jon settled deeper into his chair, letting his head tip so it was propped against the back cushion.

Part of him felt like he needed to take the opportunity of a quiet moment to shoot Jay a text, just to say he was okay after the fight earlier. There'd been a couple close calls that Jon was pretty sure had been caught on video, and he didn't want to get a worried phone call when Jay finally got a free moment to look at the news.

But before he could even move to take his phone out, he was stopped by Otho quietly standing up, arms crossed and her wary eyes on him.

It felt a little like being watched by a skittish puppy who’d already been kicked and was waiting to have to fight for itself, but he told himself that that was just who Otho was, at least for now. That it was going to take a long time for her to feel safe enough to trust basically anyone who wasn’t Clark or Osul.

The part of his brain that was still sick with guilt from letting the twins get kidnapped, no matter what Kon had said or how right he was logically, reminded him that he hadn’t done much to make it easier for her.

Jon shoved that part away. “What’s up?”

With a glance back towards the kitchen, Otho slid closer, chin up.

“You may take my seat on the couch, if you would like to sit with your father.” She offered, her voice so low it was almost inaudible. “I am content on the chair.”

And if Jon’s chest didn’t already feel like a tangled mess of too many emotions, it definitely would’ve then.

“I’m good here. Don’t worry about it, Otho.” Jon managed a smile.

She nodded, and though there was a little bit of doubt in it, Jon still expected her to go join Osul and Clark in the kitchen. He figured she’d wanna go get her popcorn and make sure they didn’t get too distracted so they could finish their movie.

Instead, Otho looked at the ground, then up at the TV, arms still crossed and a frown on her face. The wary look she’d had before had mixed with something hesitant.

Jon wanted to ask her about it, but he forced himself to stay quiet. Asking would probably work with Osul, but Otho seemed more likely to just sidestep him and let go of her thought altogether than tell him.

So he waited patiently as Clark and Osul got the popcorn popping on the stove, listening to them chatter so that he wasn’t pressuring Otho with his full attention, and eventually, Otho unfolded her arms and put her hands on the arm of Jon’s chair to look at him.

“There was something that the Unmade said while we were searching for his sister,” Otho said. Her face flickered. “He said…that I was being a good sister to Osul by trying to protect him.”

Jon smiled again, a little more genuine as he glanced over at where Osul was floating in the kitchen, head tilted up and mouth open wide. He was giggling as Clark tossed pieces of popcorn up in the air for him to try and catch.

“You are, Otho. Look at him. He’s happy like that now because you kept him safe for so long,” Jon said.

“And if Superman and Lois are our parents now—” She hesitated, her lips thinning. “Then that makes you our brother as well, does it not?”

Jon nodded, ignoring the way his heart twisted. "You don’t have to view me as one if you’re not ready to, but I am if you want me to be.”

This time, it was Otho’s turn to look back to the kitchen. She took a deep breath.

“But you did not protect us. Osul and I were taken.”

Her eyes turned on Jon, dark and serious, and Jon’s stomach sank with a heavy, unwieldy mess of guilt all over again.

“Otho…” He started, not having a single clue about what to say next. Not sure if he should apologize or promise that it wouldn’t happen again or just agree that, yes, he’d fucked up majorly.

Would Otho accept an apology considering Osul’s life had been on the line? Would she believe him if he promised anything after he’d already failed her? What good was just agreeing?

If he’d been on the opposite side of it and someone had let the twins be taken like he had, he would've struggled to forgive them. Even if he knew it wasn't their fault, his worry would tangle up with the anger he had for Metallo, and he'd have lashed out.

And besides just that, he was supposed to be Superman. He had been for months. While Clark was off saving Warworld, Jon had been protecting their home, and he’d thought that he’d been getting better at it by the end, that he’d been starting to really become a Superman that he could be proud of.

Now, there was a part of him that wondered what sort of Superman could let two kids on a completely strange planet, who were depending on their family to keep them safe, get hurt.

Otho and Osul hadn’t had anyone but each other for so long, but now that they were finally beginning to get comfortable on Earth, Jon had let them slip through his fingers. How could they feel like he was their brother when he was the reason that either or both of them could’ve been hurt or worse?

Kon had said it was something that had happened, not anything that Jon had done, but that was harder to believe now that he was sitting in front of Otho.

With a lump beginning to grow in his throat, Jon finally just shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured. “I don’t have any excuse for letting him take you. I should’ve been good enough to keep you both safe.”

“Yes…but that is not what the unmade said, was it?” Otho frowned.

Jon’s chest was aching.

“He said that I was supposed to ‘look out’ for my brother. The definition was not dependent on the success, but on the intent.”

Swallowing around the lump growing in his throat, Jon let his hands tangle together. He wanted to say something, anything, but Otho beat him to it.

“You followed me, and you did your best to protect both me and Osul. You fought alone while we worked together, putting yourself further into harm's way in order to give us an advantage. Even when you believed that I had wrongfully attacked someone, you blamed yourself, when I would have been at fault,” Otho said. “Your intentions were clear, Jon-El.”

“I let you down,” Jon said quietly.

“Maybe, but is that worth more than what you meant?”

Jon closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Kon’s question rattling between his ribs.

When he looked again, Otho was staring at him, her expression mixed.

Then, slowly, she gave him the tiniest little smile.

“You were correct, before, when you spoke to Osul about our puzzle boxes. We are a family now, and it is good to have more,” She said.

His own lips twitching up reluctantly, Jon looked back to the kitchen, where Clark and Osul were filling up five bowls with popcorn. They’d made a second bag just to have enough for everyone, even though Lois still wasn’t back.

He still had to talk to Osul. Still had to make sure that he knew Jon wanted him around. The last thing Jon ever meant to do was hurt him, and he had to be sure Osul knew he meant that.

But Otho calling them family had been more than he’d expected.

It made all of the hard-to-describe feelings from the day, from being told he had to watch the twins to having Osul look so hesitant to even enter his room to seeing Metallo grab them out of the air, all feel a little more manageable.

“Y’know, Dad and I used to play this game back on the farm that I called coneyball,” Jon said. His eyes were stinging, but he blinked, and they stopped. “It’s where you take a pinecone and blow as hard as you can to move it around, up in the air.”

“That is meant to be fun?” Otho asked.

“Trust me, it’s way better than it sounds. Dad said earlier that he’d take us to the farm for the weekend and that we’d show you how to play. Interested?”

“You did not seem to be when he suggested it.”

A curl of guilt drifted through Jon’s chest like smoke, but he smiled it away. “I am now. Coneyball is a family game, after all.”

Otho crossed her arms again, her eyes narrowing, and her expression flickered into something a little bit lighter, a small, genuine flash of happiness.

“Is there a winner to this coneyball?” She asked.