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“I came here as fast as I could,” you pant as you race into the Kent house. “Where’s–” The sight of Clark cuts you off. For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve hardly seen him look anything other than 100%. But now, as you stare at him in shock, he’s hunched over the dining room table, clutching his stomach with one hand and his head with the other. Sweat drenches his forehead, his shirt sticking to him like a second skin, and his face is flushed bright red. His face twists in pain as he glances up at you only to double over once more. “Oh my god, Clark.”
“I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth.
You throw your bag onto the table and run over to him, pressing a gentle hand to his shoulder. He flinches at the touch and you draw away immediately. “You don’t look fine.”
Martha rushes over to you. “Do you have it?”
“Have wh–” you start, too distracted by Clark looking like death personified. “Oh. Yes. Yes! I have it.” You reach for your bag and root through it, pulling out a small rolled up leaflet. “Here.”
Jonathan immediately takes it from your hand and unfolds it, reading over it.
“What does it say?” Martha asks, voice shaky.
“I don’t know, there’s a lot to read. But as far as I can tell, it says… it says a kiss from his soulmate can reverse the effects of the poison.”
“Soulmate? But who could that be?”
Clark mumbles something but it gets lost in the air as his body wracks with dry coughs. Martha lets out a disheartened noise and jumps to her son’s side, rubbing at his back gently. When he’s calmed down enough, he clears his throat and tries again. “L… Lana.”
“Oh, Clark,” Martha mutters, reaching to push his hair away from his forehead. She looks heartbroken. “Lana’s not in Smallville.”
“I can go get her.”
Jonathan reaches out and squeezes Clark’s upper arm. “You can’t even get up from your chair, son.”
Clark, as determined as ever, stands up straight, squares his shoulders, takes one slow step forward, and collapses against the table. You run forward to catch him and he slumps against you, too weak to hold himself up. “I can do it,” he mutters. “I can… I can do it. I know I can.”
“Clark,” you whisper, pushing him back toward his chair and helping him sit back down. “You can’t. Please don’t.”
“But Lana…”
“Isn’t speaking to you anymore,” you finish for him. He groans and drops his head against the table, trembling as pain shoots through his body. “Clark, even if we could get to her, do you think she’d agree to kiss you?”
“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better,” he replies, sarcasm dripping in his voice.
“I’m just being honest. Look, there has to be another way.” You reach out for the leaflet from Jonathan and scan over all the information. There’s a lot, Jonathan wasn’t exaggerating, and you settle down in the chair beside Clark to read through it all. It takes a while, the text getting smaller and smaller the further you read, information crammed so close it’s almost overwhelming, but finally you read something that makes you gasp. Martha and Jonathan both turn to you with hope in their eyes as Clark remains slumped over the table, worsening by the second. “It says that a soulmate's kiss will save him, but…”
“But what?” Martha asks, stepping forward anxiously. “But what?”
“But if it’s not a soulmate and just someone in close proximity, it’ll take away some of the pain, not all, and pass the poison over to the receiver of the kiss.”
Jonathan raises an eyebrow. “So if Clark kisses anyone other than Lana, or whoever his soulmate is, it’ll heal him a little?”
“And poison someone else,” Clark adds, shaking his head. “Not a chance.”
“But Clark,” Martha starts, eyes brightening ever so slightly, “it might heal you enough to get the kryptonite out of your system. And then, once it’s gone…”
Clark glances up. “I can heal fully.” A glimmer of hope flashes across his features but it disappears as quickly as it came. “Even if that worked, I’d still be passing this to someone else. I’m not doing it.”
“Clark–” you start, but he cuts you off.
“No. I’m not doing it. That’s not fair. Anyway, even if I did decide to do that, which I won’t, I can’t pick someone. I mean, I can’t just pick someone and make them take my pain. That’s unfair; that’s not right. And I can’t go out and find someone, so that leaves me with you guys, and, well, but I’m not kissing my parents.”
“If it saves you, Clark, then–”
“Mom. No.”
It hits you in that moment that it all comes down to you. “Clark,” you start, and he raises his head to look at you. Somehow, he looks worse than when you first saw him, eyes red and his face paling considerably, and it makes your stomach lurch. “What about–”
“Don’t even go there.”
“But–”
“No. No offense but you’re definitely not my soulmate.”
“So you’re just gonna let yourself die?”
“If I have to.”
“Well that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
And without thinking it through at all, you’re diving forward and pressing your lips to his. Your hands find his face and you cup his cheeks, pulling him toward you so that he can’t back away, and you can feel his mouth drop open in shock and his hands fly up to push you away, before he hesitates. He freezes and time completely stands still. But then, to your surprise, just as you’re about to pull away in horror and embarrassment, he begins to kiss back desperately. His back straightens, his shoulders roll back easily into their sockets, and you can feel his too-cold skin slightly warm under your touch. You’re breathing new life into him and he’s taking it like a man who hasn’t eaten in days.
A cough brings you back to the present and you jump back, half-lidded eyes finding Jonathan and Martha’s shocked ones. Anxiety bubbles low in your gut before roaring to life at the realisation of what you’ve just done. Clark has a dopey look on his face–shock and awe and appreciation all at once–but one look at his parents sobers him up immediately and fury clouds his expression.
“Why did you do that?” He asks, stepping toward you almost menacingly. You’ve seen Clark angry before but not like this. And never at you. Never. He takes your shoulders in his hands and shakes you, not too hard to hurt but hard enough to make you tremble in his arms. “You’re gonna die! Why did you do that? How could you be so stupid?”
“Me, stupid? You were gonna let yourself die first!”
“So you or anyone else wouldn’t go through that! Now you’re gonna– you’re– oh, god, you just sacrificed yourself for me.” All anger drains from him and he looks completely broken. Your heart aches at the sight. “I appreciate it, I really do, but you shouldn’t have done that.”
“It was worth it, Clark. To save you, anything’s worth it.”
His face becomes stoic then. He opens his mouth, tries to say something, closes it, tries again, fails, and closes it once more. Shaking his head, he pulls away and gives his parents a saddened look. “We need to get them to a hospital.”
“He’s right,” Martha says, running to your side and pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “You’ll be feeling the effects soon.”
“Wait,” Jonathan mutters, looking between you and Clark with an unreadable expression.
“We can’t wait, Dad. We have to–”
“Just wait ,” he repeats, grabbing the leaflet and reading over it again. “Clark… how are you feeling?”
Clark tilts his head. “I feel fine, Dad. But Y/N–”
“Stop. Think about it, son, how do you really feel?”
“I feel…” he starts, straightening his back and clenching his hands as he stares into the distance. After a moment, he lets out a relieved breath. “I feel perfect. I’m at 100%.”
“But the leaflet says–” Martha starts, cutting herself off with a gasp. “Y/N, how do you feel?”
In your head, you mentally note how each shaky limb and organ feels. Despite being anxious and short of breath, it occurs to you that you feel completely fine. If the poison affected Clark as quickly as they say it did, you should be doubling over in pain right now. Maybe even dead. “I feel normal.”
“Normal?”
“Nothing hurts. I mean, yeah, I’m a nervous wreck right now and I feel like I need to sleep for a month, but other than that I feel, I feel… I’m okay.”
The room falls silent.
Clark takes a step toward you. “But it said–”
“It said that a soulmate’s kiss will save you, son.”
Martha nods. “And one that isn’t your soulmate will only help with the pain, not heal you completely. And right now, you seem fine. So does Y/N.”
Clark shakes his head, refusing to take in the information. “It must be because I’m Kryptonian. It’s different.”
“Or,” Martha starts, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You two are…” Jonathan gives her a look and she trails off. “Um, nevermind. I think that’s a conversation you need to have yourselves.”
“Right,” you breathe out, head swimming. “I think for now I need to go home and sleep.”
“No,” Clark shakes his head, still not understanding the situation completely. “I’m taking you to the hospital and they’re gonna give you a full check-up.”
“I don’t really wanna waste their time or my money, Clark.”
“I’ll pay for it,” he says sternly. “Every penny. I’m taking you to the hospital whether you like it or not.”
As you look at him, exhausted and in desperate need to curl up in bed and be thankful that you live to see another day, you suddenly see him in a whole new light. As if something’s been shielding your vision for as long as you’ve known him and it’s only just slid out of view.
You gasp as it hits you: you’re in love with Clark Kent. Actually in love. Head over heels, in fact.
He tilts his head at you and all you can do is stare. “Y/N? Are you okay?”
“Uh…”
His eyes fill with worry. “Is it happening? Are you starting to feel sick?”
Still unable to look away from him, you map out every detail of his (very pretty, very handsome) features and submit it all to your long-term memory (seriously, how did you not notice this before?). Suddenly realising he’d asked you a question almost a full minute prior, you shake your head weakly. “No. I just. Um.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Martha softly laugh to herself and Jonathan smirk, and you feel as restless as you would if you decided to drink several highly-caffineated coffees at once. “No. I just realised something.”
“Oh,” he nods. And then it’s clear it clicks for him, too. “ Oh .” His face flushes a beautiful red. “Okay. Well. I’m still taking you to the hospital.”
“Okay.”
“Mom, can I–”
“Go ahead,” she chuckles, running her hand over Jonathan’s back. “You two kids have fun.”
“We’re going to the hospital, Mom, not an amusement park.”
Jonathan holds back a laugh. “But you’re definitely about to experience some ups and downs, ey?”
Clark glares at him and grabs your shoulder, carting you toward the front door with ease. You grab your bag from the table quickly and give Martha and Jonathan an awkward smile, bidding them goodbye before you’re outside and the door is closing behind you. You glance at Clark who markedly avoids your eyes, making your stomach drop. “So…” you start, taking a step away from him. “We’re taking the car, right?”
“No.” And before you can say anything else, he picks you up as if you’re as light as a feather and speeds off. You close your eyes, feeling your stomach drop again but this time it’s more of a plummet down a very long, very dark hole, and when you open them a few seconds later you’re outside the hospital. He leads you inside, asks (read: demands) for an immediate check-up, and you’re whisked into an empty hospital room quicker than you’d imagine. He must have given them a reason to take you in so soon because you’d have thought you’d be waiting in the ER for hours, but it slips your mind to ask how he managed that when the nurses begin their extensive check-ups.
An hour passes and a doctor walks in holding your chart, a deep line in his forehead. For a moment you worry he’s found something wrong with you, that all this was leading where you thought it was, that you are actually dying, but he lets out an exasperated sigh and shakes his head. “Why you decided to waste the time of me and my nurses, I’ll never know.”
“Sorry?”
“You better be. According to your updated charts, nothing’s different. You’re exactly the same as you were when you last came in.”
“So I’m… I’m fine?”
“Yes. Now if you’ll please excuse me, this bed needs to be used for actual patients.”
You nod and thank him, leaving the room as quickly as you can. As you do, you slam face-first into a wall. A wall that… moves? Blinking rapidly, you realise it’s not a wall at all, rather Clark Kent in the flesh. Wow , you think, this guy’s built like a brick .
“What is it? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Clark.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“That nothing’s changed since my last check-up.”
He tilts his head. “And when was that?”
“A month ago, maybe two? Look, man, I’m fine.”
He grins at that, a fully toothy grin that knocks the breath out of you, before it slips off immediately. “So that means…”
“Yeah,” you whisper.
“Oh.”
You stare at him and he stares back. Someone bumps into you and it breaks your focus, glueing your eyes to the floor instead. “Thank you for making sure I was okay. I should go home now.”
“I’ll take you.”
“It’s okay. I need the walk. Clear my head and all.”
“Then I’ll walk with you.”
You huff out a laugh. “Clark, I’ll be fine. I can walk by myself.”
“I know,” he shrugs, and a small smile slips back onto his face. The butterflies in your stomach rattle in their cage. “But I wanna walk with you.”
Realising there’s no way to get out of this, you laugh and begin walking toward the exit. He follows along like a lost puppy. “Fine, whatever. Wouldn’t hurt.”
He grins that toothy grin again and the butterflies in your stomach escape their captivity and swarm around viciously. For the first ten or so minutes, the two of you are silent. Neither of you have much to say. But thankfully, it’s not awkward in the slightest. It’s actually quite peaceful. It feels easy.
“So. About what that leaflet said…” Clark starts, swinging his arms in a way that makes you smile. “You don’t believe it, do you?”
You know exactly what he means but you decide to have some fun. “Believe what, Clark?”
“Um. Well. The whole, uh, soulmate… part.” He stumbles over his words and you have to bite back a grin. He’s such a dork. “I mean, we’re not soulmates.” He avoids your eyes by looking out into the road. Few cars pass, the moon high in the sky, time ticking closer to dawn than you’d rather it be. “Right?”
“Right.” You nod, following along. If he’s not ready yet, then so be it. He’ll figure it out in his own time. Hopefully. “‘Course not.”
He nods, a satisfied smile on his face. It wounds you a bit but you push that aside. “Yeah, exactly. I mean, c’mon, us? Soulmates? Just doesn’t make sense.”
Now that hurts a lot more but you continue to smile. “Exactly. Must have had something to do with you not being human.”
“Exactly! Not sure how it didn’t affect you even though you are human, but I’m not complaining. Just glad you’re alright, y’know?”
“Me too.” Looking around, you realise you’ve reached your house, and you walk toward the front door. “This is me,” you smile awkwardly, jabbing a thumb toward the door.
“Oh, right,” he says as if he had no idea where you lived. In reality, he’d been over at yours almost every day for the past few years. It was almost like he lived there; the thought makes your hands shake. “Well, I guess I should head off home. Parents are probably waiting up.”
You think back to their smirks as you left the house earlier on and you shake your head with a chuckle. “Doubt it. They probably think you’re staying here tonight.”
“Why would they–” His eyes widen. “Oh.”
That rips a laugh from you. A loud snort that turns into uncontrollable laughter. It has you doubling over as tears slip over your cheeks. “Oh my god, your face.” You look at him again and he still has that adorable confused look and it makes you laugh even harder. “Jeeze, Clark, lighten up a bit.”
He chuckles alongside you, not quite at your level but enough to make you laugh for a while longer, and when you glance at him after a short while you realise his face has completely changed. Instead of confusion, there’s a lost look in his eyes. You clutch your stomach as you calm down, wiping tears from your eyes, and when you finally catch your breath you tilt your head at him.
“You okay there?”
“Fine.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t seem fine.”
“Well, I am.”
The tone of his voice–annoyed with a hint of worry–sobers you up immediately and you take a tentative step toward him, reaching out but hesitating and pulling back. “No you’re not. What’s wrong?”
His face crumbles and he stares at the ground. “I think I’ve just realised that that leaflet wasn’t, uh, well… it wasn't wrong.”
If it didn’t feel like the butterflies in your stomach were doing everything in their power to cut through your flesh earlier, it definitely did now. “What changed? Just a minute ago you said that it couldn’t have been the truth.”
“You laughed.”
“I… laughed?”
“You laughed and it was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. And then I realised that I’ve thought that every single time you’ve laughed before.” He takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. “I think I might be in love with you.”
“Because… because of my laugh?”
“No,” he chuckles, shaking his head. He steps forward and reaches out to cup your face in his very warm, very large hand. You nuzzle against his palm as if you’ve done it a thousand times. He smiles down at you sweetly, his eyes soft and full of fully-fledged affection and overwhelming appreciation, and with a small gasp you’ve realised he’s looked at you like that before. It’s how he’s always looked at you. As if you yourself plucked him from the wolves and set him on the right path, as if he owes his life to you. “Because you’re the most important person to me. And after everything we’ve been through–after everything I’ve put you through–you’ve never once left my side. You’ve never even thought about it, have you?” You slowly shake your head, unable to look away from him. His smile widens. “How couldn’t I have realised that what I want most in the world has been in front of my face this whole time?”
Instead of answering, because you know if you tried nothing would come out except for a few embarrassing noises, you tilt your head towards him and he reciprocates immediately, your lips sliding together as if they’re made for each other. And it hits you in that moment that, if you truly are soulmates, then they were made for each other, and it takes your breath away.
Clark kisses you as if it’s the last time he ever will. His hands are firm on your cheeks but in the way that reminds you of holding an expensive wine glass–not too hard to break, but not too gently in fear of it falling just out of reach. You run your hands over his chest and up his shoulders, snaking them behind his neck and holding him close, fingers gently tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, and he lets out a soft groan as he pushes you against the door. As your back hits the wood, you pull away slightly to catch your breath. Clark gives you a moment, eyes still closed and lips parted as if not quite yet ready to depart from the memory of yours pressed against his, and when enough time has passed he kisses you again. You laugh into the kiss and he smiles.
After what feels like forever, you pull away for real, gently pushing him away by the shoulders. He pouts and you laugh, giving him another quick kiss, before fumbling around for the key in your pocket and producing it. The moment he sees it, his eyes glisten and he smirks. “Wanna take this inside?” You ask, nodding toward the front door.
“Please,” he replies, hands running under your shirt and making you shiver.
“Your wish is my command.” You turn toward the door and unlock it, pushing it open and letting him follow you in, his hands never feeling you for a second. “Oh, and for the record, I think I’m in love with you too.”
He grins his usual boyish toothy grin, the happiest you think you’ve ever truly seen him, and he waits for you to lock the door before claiming your lips with his once more. You grin into the kiss, never feeling so alive yet so at peace, and it occurs to you that you’ve always been in love with Clark. And as you do, he realises that he’s always been in love with you, too.