Chapter Text
Set in the earlier seasons of Smallville. Just had a small idea and was bored. Inspired also by the idea of holding horses heads up when they are sick and sedated to help them hold their weight. Just something that I not only had to do physically this week, but also something that I think holds so much symbolism and beauty. Hope you enjoy!
“Does it ever warm up here?” y/n asked to herself, rubbing the soft hair of the spot on the cow she just injected.
“You’d be surprised at how hot it gets in the summer,” answered a friendly voice behind her in the first covered field. Y/n turned to find a tall boy carrying a bale and dressed in red flannel. Clark Kent.
Turning back to the small equipment case at her side, she put the syringe down, picking up the disinfectant wipes and going to move to a different cow.
“It would be wise for you to not sneak up on people holding sharp objects, Kent.”
A soft chuckle sounded. “I’ll take my chances.” Despite herself, a smile crept on her face as she shot him a look, only for him to break into a cheeky smile. Y/n rolled her eyes.
A few weeks earlier Y/n’s dad and her had been called to the Kent farm. One of the perks of working for her family’s vet, spending the winter break in the mild of nowhere vaccinating cows. Well, family was a broad word, considering it was only her and her dad.
“Any word from your Dad?” Clark asked, staking more bales for the cows as if it were nothing.
“No. I bet he’s still in surgery. I’ll call him later.” She pinches the cow's brown coat, injecting the last poor cow. Her dad had been called off site a week ago for another case of sick cows. Somewhere close to Luthor Corp. Wherever that was. And thus, not only was she working on a farm for winter break, but rooming at the Kents until her dad could come back.
“And, uh, how are they doing,” Clark said, nodding towards the cows.
“Better, from what I can tell. Any trace of the unknown poison should be out of them. Hopefully,” she huffs out, her doubts settling into her chest despite the cold. As confident as she usually was working with animals, having worked with her father and watched him since she was little, this case was… different. Usually a case of cows getting sick by eating something they shouldn't was easy, yet the substance couldn't be identified this time, and they couldn't help but worry as the cows were recovering slower than usual.
“That’s good,” Clark said, coming to stand next to y/n, their breaths fogging out in front of each other. “Cause that one’s my favorite.”
Cracking a smile, y/n asked, “Which one? The twenty brown ones?”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “No, the white one over there.” He pointed to the smallest cow in the field, blending into the frost on the grass. “Her name is Tessa.”
“Tessa?” Y/n shot back, giving Clark a sly smile.
His cheeks reddened slightly more, and she could tell it was not just from the cold. “I, uh- A few years back we got a herd. She was the runt. Didn’t think she would give milk. Now she’s one of our best cows.”
Y/n smiled at him, as he sheepishly shrugged deeper into his coat. For a boy his size, he seemed to constantly be trying to make himself appear smaller.
“It’s stupid-” he started, looking down at his boots.
“Well, my favorite is Wilfred.”
Big blue eyes meet hers, and she can’t help but hold in a laugh. “We don’t have one named Wilfred-”
“I know. But I didn’t know his name and he was being especially difficult, even for a bull and I needed a name to yell at him.”
“So… you went with Wilfred?” He raised a dark brow.
“He was hard headed and stubborn, so it was between Wilfred and Clark.” Her gut twisted as she said it, worried he would take the comment as rude, but when his face broke into another sheepish smile, she relaxed a little. It was difficult spending this time away from her home and with some almost strangers. But spending it with the Kent’s and their farm boy of a son was turning out to not be so bad.
Clark rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, his face creasing for a second, letting out a sigh.
“I’m really sorry for taking your bed up for so long. I can-”
“I’m fine on the couch.” Clark insisted again, this not being their first conversation on this.
“Whatever,” y/n rolled her eyes, “but it’s not my fault if your neck hurts.”
—
“Clark, honey, we’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,” Martha said, running up to the truck as Johnathan threw some bags in the trunk. “Y/n, there’s extra blankets on Clark's bed and food in the fridge.”
“Thank you Mrs. Kent.” She smiled at Clark's mom, going to grab her bag from her but not before Clark intercepted, grabbing it and throwing it in the trunk next to his dad. Martha sent her a warm look, and y/n couldn't help but smile in return.
“Don’t worry mom, we’ll be fine. You guys have fun,” Clark said.
“Be safe. And if anything… happens,” she gave a quick look to Clark, “call us.”
Y/n watched whatever unspoken conversation Clark and his parents were having, before waving goodbye.
—
The sun was just setting, and y/n was helping Clark with the chores around the farm. Clark came strolling through the barn holding a new full bag of feed.
“I’ve just got to put the feed away and then I think we’re done.” A sheen of sweat shone on Clark's forehead despite the dropping temperatures.
“Clark, are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah-yeah I’m fine,” Clark rushed out, his brows worried despite himself as he walked into the feed room.
“Okay, well I’ll just-”
A loud crash came from the room, along with a wince that could only be Clark. Y/n ran into the feed room, only to see Clark writhing on the floor, the feed spilled across the floor, an odd green dust rising up from it.
“Clark!”
The green dust settled on his clothes, sticking to his sweat as y/n went to wipe it away.
“Mmm… get me out of here, y/n.”
—
“Okay- okay, here.” Y/n guided him over to the couch, struggling under his weight as he dragged his feet. He thought that once he got out of the green dust he would feel better, but he could feel himself getting worse as she lowered him to the couch. Wincing as y/n shrugged his coat off. His eyes were growing heavy, his limbs aching fiercely, his head pounding as everything in him felt horrible. But it was the green dust still settled on his hands, his face that alarmed him. He went to spring up, only to stumble back on the couch as y/n ran back to him mid dialing the phone.
“Clark? Clark, it’s okay I’m just gonna call your parents-”
“No!” His eyes shot open, his face scrunching in pain from the too fast movements. “No, I’m fine. It’s their date night. I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Clark-”
“Y/n.” It took everything in him to focus on her eyes. Her albeit pretty eyes, as her hair hung over her shoulder. His parents hadn’t had a date night in a while, what with their financial problems and all his close calls with his powers and such, he didn’t want to ruin their night. Even if he wasn't sure what was happening to him. Besides, it was just kryptonite that seemed to be in the feed. Why it was in the feel, he would figure that out, but right now he needed to get it off of himself.
“Y/n, ah,” he winced, his eyes shutting tight. “Y/n, I need you to take me to the bathroom.”
“What?” Had the circumstances been different, he would have laughed at her wide eyes and shocked face, her cheeks flushing despite herself.
“Y/n, please.” His voice was desperate, barely a whisper as the pain was becoming too much.
“Okay, okay.” Slipping his arm over her shoulders once more, she hauled him slowly up the stairs, his feet dragging with every step as he blinked back dark spots.
Dragging him into the bathroom, y/n helped him lower himself against the wall to the floor. His chest tightened as more spots crossed his vision. What was happening? What was- Shower, he had to get the meteor rock off his skin. His throat tight, his hands shaking, Clark reached for the reassuring hand y/n had on her shoulder.
“Sho- shower,” he stumbled out. “The green dust, ah- I’m allergic. Y/n please-”
“Okay, okay.” Y/n once more helped him up. Stumbling to the tub, he tried to step into it, only to trip and all but collapse into the tub. Looking down at the large boy in the tub, his eyes rolled back into his head, his body shaking.
Y/n’s chest tightened as she reached for the faucets and turned the water on, letting it spray onto Clark. Still shaking, y/n grabbed a cloth from the counter. Leaning over the semi conscious boy, y/n wiped the dust from his face, scrunched up in pain.
But he didn’t stop shaking, now moaning in pain Y/n made a quick decision. Tearing open his flannel and quickly searching the cabinet for scissors, she cut through his white undershirt, revealing the small dust particles on his chest.
As she unbuckled his belt and jeans, she shrugged them off, more dust rinsed off his skin. His hot skin, she noted. Cold water steamed off his skin, and she pressed a gentle hand to his forehead. He leaned into her touch, his brows relaxing. Still, his skin was burning up. Grabbing his torn up clothes, y/n quickly threw them out the bathroom window. Whatever it was he was allergic too, she needed to be sure it was out of the room.
A small moan had her glancing back at the unconscious Clark, half naked as cold water kept pouring on him. She kneeled next to the tub, holding his head in her arms like she had done countless times for horses and cows, and brushing the dark wet strands from his forehead. He leaned into her touch once more, swallowing thickly. But his eyes remained closed.
“It’s okay, Clark. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”