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Clark had always been affectionate, but lately his affection had developed a new kind of gravity.
At first Lex barely noticed: a hand lingering on his shoulder a little longer than necessary, a brush of fingertips when passing papers across the table. Small things that could be dismissed as habit. Yet the pattern persisted. Every time Lex looked up from his work, there was Clark orbiting close, hovering at the edge of his desk with that disarming dimpled-smile.
The first time it truly struck Lex was a Tuesday morning. He’d been typing out a proposal when a warm weight settled behind him. Clark leaned closer, chin almost resting on Lex’s shoulder, as if reading along.
“Do you ever sleep?” Clark murmured, breath stirring the collar of Lex’s shirt.
“Occasionally. You should try it sometime.”
Clark’s laugh was low and fond, and he stayed right where he was—close enough that Lex could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing.
It kept happening.
In the evenings, when Lex sank into the couch with a book, Clark followed like a moth to light. Sometimes he’d press a knee against Lex’s; sometimes he simply stretched an arm across the back of the couch until his fingers brushed Lex’s neck. Lex pretended to focus on the page, but the truth was that the touch made the words blur together.
“You’re awfully clingy this week,” Lex teased one night.
Clark blinked, expression guileless. “You mind?”
“No.” Lex’s answer came out softer than he intended.
He didn’t mind. He loved it, though admitting that, even to himself, felt dangerous. He had never been someone people clung to; his life had been a collection of distances carefully maintained. But Clark was rewriting that rule without even trying.
The shift was unmistakable now.
At breakfast, Clark hovered near the kitchen counter instead of darting off to patrol. During Lex’s late-night work hours, he’d appear with coffee and simply stay, sometimes talking, sometimes dozing in the chair beside him. The farmboy who could lift satellites was suddenly needy for proximity, and Lex found himself responding in kind—setting his laptop aside more often, letting his hand find its way to Clark’s hair when words failed.
He noticed other changes too: the way Clark looked at him. Not the awed look people gave Superman, but something heavier, quieter. Admiration distilled into affection. Every glance seemed to carry a pulse of warmth that went straight through Lex.
One afternoon, as sunlight poured through the study windows, Clark sat on the couch sorting through files he’d promised to deliver to the Planet. Lex stood a few feet away, phone in hand, pretending to listen to a voicemail. Out of nowhere, Clark looked up, eyes soft and bright.
“What?” Lex asked.
“Nothing. You just look…” He trailed off, smile tilting. “Good. That’s all.”
Lex forgot how to breathe for a second. He covered it with a smirk, but his voice came out uneven.
“Flattery, Kent? That’s beneath you.”
Clark only grinned and reached for him, tugging gently until Lex sank beside him on the couch. There were easier things than resisting Clark.
So Lex didn’t resist.
Clark leaned close, forehead resting briefly against his temple. The silence stretched, comfortable and warm. Lex could smell soap and sunlight on his skin.
“You’ve been acting strange,” Lex murmured finally.
“I just…” Clark hesitated, fingers tracing idle patterns over Lex’s sleeve. “I feel like I need to be here. With you. All the time”
“Is that a problem?”
Clark shook his head, eyes soft. “It’s the opposite.”
“You know, most people would call this clingy.”
“Then I’m clingy.” Clark said with a shrug.
Lex just turned his head just enough to press a kiss to Clark’s hair. Clark sighed, leaning into the touch as if the world had finally gone quiet.
They stayed like that for a long while: two men on the couch of a too-bright study, hearts beating in sync. Lex’s hand found Clark’s, their fingers fitting together like they’d been practicing this all their lives.
The sunlight had shifted by the time Lex looked up from the report he wasn’t really reading. Clark was still half-curled against him, head resting on his shoulder, the steady weight of him both comforting and disarming.
Lex had dealt with world crises, boardroom wars, and cosmic threats that made most men crumble. None of it unnerved him quite like his husband’s warmth pressed against his side, soft and content and distractingly there.
Clark stirred, blinking up at him with that sleepy smile that always made Lex forget what he was supposed to be doing. “You’re still working?” he murmured, voice rough from sleep.
Lex’s mouth twitched. “Trying to. You make it difficult.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Clark laughed, leaning up to kiss his jaw.
It was meant to be light, but Lex didn’t miss the faint flush on Clark’s cheeks or the sheen of sweat at his temple. When he brushed his fingers along Clark’s hairline, the skin was warmer than usual.
“You’re overheating,” Lex murmured.
Clark shook his head. “I’m fine. Just feeling warm.”
Warm, yes—except even Clark’s version of warmth didn’t usually make his pulse jump like that. Lex frowned, but Clark was already shifting, sitting up straighter, brushing invisible dust off his shirt as if to prove his point.
“I’ll get some water,” Clark said, taking a step—then stumbled.
Lex was on his feet before thought caught up, catching Clark by the waist. For one terrifying moment, Clark’s entire weight sagged into his arms. The world narrowed to that: the impossible sight of Superman going slack, eyes fluttering closed.
“Clark.” Lex’s voice broke on his name. “Baby, look at me.” No response. Just a faint, uneven breath against his collar.
Lex’s mind went white-hot and silent — then blazed into motion. He eased Clark onto the couch, fingers already flying for his comm. “Otis, lockdown Alpha-3. Get Dr. Hamilton here. Now. Tell him to bring every piece of metahuman diagnostic tech he has. And—”
He hesitated, then added, “No Kryptonite anywhere near this building. Not a trace. Sweep for radiation, twice.”
The guards scrambled to obey. Lex barely noticed. He was crouched beside the couch, one hand cupping Clark’s cheek, thumb tracing the faintest tremor of warmth there. “Come on, love,” he whispered, voice raw. “Don’t do this to me.”
It felt obscene—Clark, who had once stared down gods, lying pale and still while Lex’s pulse thundered with helpless fear.
Dr. Hamilton arrived within minutes, breathless and wide-eyed. “Mr. Luthor—”
“Check him.” Lex’s tone left no room for questions.
Hamilton knelt immediately, pulling out scanners, muttering readings under his breath. Lex hovered close enough to see the data flash across the display—elevated energy readings, pulse irregularities that shouldn’t exist in a Kryptonian body.
“What is it?” Lex demanded.
Hamilton’s brow furrowed. “Not Kryptonite poisoning. Not radiation sickness either. It’s… something else. His vitals are strange like his energy is being redirected internally.”
“Redirected to what?”
But before the doctor could answer, Clark stirred with a small groan, eyes blinking open. Lex’s composure cracked. He leaned in, voice trembling despite himself.
“Clark. You scared the hell out of me.”
Clark blinked up at him, dazed but smiling faintly. “I’m sorry. Guess I overdid it.”
“Overdid it?” Lex repeated incredulously. “You collapsed, Clark. You don’t ‘overdo’ things.”
“I’m fine,” Clark insisted softly, sitting up with Lex’s help. His hand found Lex’s wrist, thumb brushing over his pulse like he was the one offering comfort. “See? Breathing. Talking. Nothing exploded.”
Lex stared at him, exasperation tangled with relief. “That’s not funny.”
Clark’s expression softened. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Lex’s. “Then don’t look so scared. I’m okay, Lex.”
Lex’s hands trembled where they rested on Clark’s back. “You fainted,” he said quietly, as if saying it aloud might make it real. “You’re never supposed to faint.”
“I know.” Clark’s smile wobbled. “Guess even Superman has his off days.”
Lex pulled back just enough to search his face. There was color in his cheeks again, warmth returning to his skin, but still, Lex couldn’t shake the lingering dread curling in his gut. He brushed his fingers through Clark’s hair, voice low. “We’re running tests. I don’t care if you feel fine now.”
Clark laughed softly. “You really called Hamilton, didn’t you?”
“I nearly called Terrific,” Lex muttered. “Consider yourself lucky I stopped there.”
Clark’s laugh turned into a gentle hum as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Lex’s cheek. “My hero,” he teased.
Lex wanted to scold him, to insist this wasn’t something to joke about, but the sound of his voice, the warmth of his lips, undid him. He exhaled slowly, resting his forehead against Clark’s again.
“Promise me you’ll tell me if anything feels off again,” Lex murmured.
“I promise.”
But as Clark melted back into his arms, clinging a little tighter than before, Lex couldn’t help but notice the quiet thrum of energy under his skin. Something was changing. He could feel it.
And though Clark looked peaceful now, Lex’s mind was already racing—compiling data, recalling every anomaly, every unexplainable moment from the past few weeks.
Something was happening to his husband. Something no one had words for yet.
It was almost three in the morning when Lex woke to the sound of the refrigerator door opening.
For one brief, drowsy moment he thought it was a break-in, and his body went automatically still, listening for movement. Then a familiar thud of steps reached him—slow, steady, unmistakable. Clark.
Lex sighed, running a hand down his face as he pushed himself up. “Of course,” he muttered, slipping out of bed.
The kitchen lights were on, soft and golden. Clark stood barefoot by the counter, wearing one of Lex’s shirts with his hair a tousled mess. In front of him: a bowl, a jar of peanut butter, leftover noodles, and what looked horrifyingly like pickles.
Lex stopped in the doorway. “Do I even want to ask?”
Clark jumped a little, spoon halfway to his mouth. “You’re awake,” he said sheepishly, as though he weren’t the one raiding the fridge before dawn.
“Hard not to be when someone’s conducting culinary experiments loud enough to wake the security system,” Lex said dryly.
Clark laughed, the sound warm and guilty. “I was hungry.”
“Hungry,” Lex repeated. He stepped closer, eyes narrowing at the concoction. “For… whatever that is?”
“Hey! It’s not that bad. Sweet and salty. You want to try?”
Lex looked at him like he’d just offered him plutonium.
“I’d rather negotiate with Darkseid.”
That made Clark laugh harder, and Lex couldn’t help the small, reluctant curve of his own mouth. The laugh faded when he really looked at Clark—cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and that same soft warmth humming under his skin that had worried him for days.
“Clark,” Lex said quietly, “does your appetite feel different lately?”
Clark blinked at him, spoon halfway to his lips again. “Maybe? I don’t know. Everything just tastes really good right now.”
Lex folded his arms. “You fainted twelve hours ago, and now you’re up at three in the morning eating—” he gestured helplessly “—that. You don’t find that unusual?”
“A little. But it’s nothing serious, Lex. Just cravings, I guess.” Clark smiled around his spoon.
Lex frowned, the word echoing in his mind. Cravings. He didn’t like how that sounded.
He moved to Clark’s side anyway, plucked the spoon out of his hand, and replaced it with a glass of water. “At least drink this,” he said, his voice soft despite the grumble. “Before you end up mixing chocolate syrup in there next.”
Clark grinned, eyes bright with affection. “You love me, though.”
Lex sighed, giving in to the inevitable. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Clark leaned over and kissed his cheek, quick and sweet. “Then sit with me while I finish my midnight snack?”
“Fine. But only because I don’t trust you not to invent new food groups while I’m asleep.”
Clark laughed again, the sound soft and content. And as Lex sat across from him, watching him eat with almost childlike happiness, the worry in his chest eased just enough to let warmth take its place.
Clark finished the last spoonful with a satisfied sigh, looking far too pleased for someone who’d just eaten noodles, pickles, and peanut butter. Lex, still half-awake and wholly bewildered, handed him a napkin and tried not to stare.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
Clark nodded, wiping his mouth. “Much. I don’t know why, but that hit the spot.”
Lex arched a brow. “I’m relieved to know culinary chaos is now medicinal.”
Clark laughed, soft and sleepy. “You’re judging me.”
He reached out to tuck an unruly lock of hair from Clark’s forehead. “Only because I’m concerned. You’ve been different lately.”
“Different how?” Clark tilted his head.
Lex hesitated. “Restless. Warm to the touch. Hungry at odd hours. I’d call it human if it weren’t you.”
“Maybe I’m just getting spoiled.” Clark leaned in, resting his head briefly on Lex’s shoulder. “You worry too much,” he mumbled.
“I have good reason.”
Clark’s hum was fading toward a yawn. “ We should come back to bed. I promise I’ll stay put this time.”
Lex sighed but guided him gently toward their room and helped Clark under the covers, smoothing the blanket over him.
Clark caught his hand before he could pull away. “Stay?”
Lex looked down at him—the loose hair falling across his brow, the faint curve of a smile—and his chest softened. “Always.”
Clark’s fingers loosened as sleep claimed him again, his breathing deep and even. Lex stood there for a long moment, simply watching, the dim light catching the small lines of peace across his face. Then, quietly, he moved to his desk, activating the handheld scanner Hamilton had left behind.
The soft hum of the device filled the room. Data scrolled across the display: Clark’s energy readings, still elevated but steady, pulsing like a second heartbeat beneath his own. Lex frowned, adjusting the calibration. The readings spiked briefly, then settled again, not chaotic but patterned — rhythmic, almost harmonic.
“Redirected internally,” Hamilton had said.
Lex watched the data loop twice more. The pattern repeated—synchronized, steady, and utterly alien. He’d seen Kryptonian bio-signatures before. This wasn’t that. It was new.
He turned toward the bed. Clark shifted in his sleep, curling instinctively around a pillow, the faintest smile on his lips. There was a glow about him tonight — not light, exactly, but vitality, something Lex could feel more than see.
Lex powered down the scanner, set it aside, and returned to the bedside. He brushed his knuckles along Clark’s arm, careful not to wake him.
Whatever this was—this warmth, this impossible change—it wasn’t hurting him. If anything, Clark seemed more alive than Lex had ever seen him.
Still, the worry didn’t leave. Lex sat on the edge of the bed, one hand resting lightly over Clark’s, feeling the slow, certain pulse beneath. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispered. “Whatever’s happening to you, we’ll make sure you’re okay.”
Clark murmured something incoherent in his sleep and turned his face toward him, expression soft and unguarded. Lex smiled despite himself.
He leaned down, pressed a quiet kiss to Clark’s temple, and stayed like that until the first gray hint of dawn began to touch the windows—the world outside still asleep, the air between them filled with warmth and something new, waiting to be named.
Morning came quietly. Pale light crept across the curtains, brushing gold over the edge of the bed. Clark was still asleep, sprawled half across the sheets, hair a sunlit mess, one hand resting where Lex had left his own hours ago.
Lex hadn’t slept at all. He sat at the small table by the window, coffee gone cold beside a tablet full of diagnostic readings. He’d run them three times already, adjusting for every known variable, and still the results were the same: two steady energy signatures, overlapping yet distinct.
The soft sound of movement drew his gaze. Clark stirred, blinking himself awake. “You’re up early,” he mumbled.
“Technically, I never went to bed.”
“Lex…” Clark propped himself on an elbow, squinting.
“Before you protest,” Lex said evenly, “I restrained myself from calling every metahuman expert in the world. I only called one.”
Clark groaned, dragging a pillow over his face. “Please tell me you didn’t drag Hamilton out of bed again.”
“He’s quite used to my emergencies by now.”
“That’s not comforting,” Clark said, voice muffled. He peeked at him from beneath the pillow, amused despite himself. “You really worry too much.”
“And you worry far too little.”
Clark laughed quietly and pushed himself up. “I feel fine, though. Better than fine, actually. I don’t know what you’re seeing in those charts, but I promise, I’m okay.”
Lex studied him, the color in his cheeks, the brightness in his eyes, and wanted to believe it. But the readings on his screen pulsed again, that twin rhythm repeating. His fingers tightened slightly around the tablet.
There was a knock at the door. Lex rose before Clark could move. “That’ll be Hamilton.”
Clark blinked. “He actually came?”
Lex opened the door to the familiar, slightly rumpled doctor, who entered with a handheld scanner and the wary expression of a man who’d been summoned one too many times by Lex Luthor.
“Morning,” Hamilton greeted. “You said this was urgent.”
“It is,” Lex replied crisply, stepping aside. “Clark’s vitals are showing an anomaly—a secondary energy pattern. I want confirmation.”
Clark sighed from the bed. “I told you, I feel fine.”
“And I told you,” Lex said without looking at him, “that feeling fine is not a reliable metric for someone who routinely survives atmospheric reentry.”
Hamilton bit back a smile and approached Clark. “If you don’t mind, Superman.”
Clark rolled his eyes good-naturedly but nodded. “Go ahead.”
The scanner hummed softly as Hamilton swept it across his torso. The data appeared in shifting holographic bands — Kryptonian biochemistry interlaced with something new.
Hamilton frowned. “Well, this is interesting.”
“Define interesting.” Lex stepped closer instantly.
“I’m seeing the same dual resonance from last night’s data,” Hamilton said slowly. “It’s stable — not parasitic, not decaying. If anything, it’s cooperative.”
“Cooperative,” Lex repeated.
Hamilton nodded. “Almost as if Clark’s cells are supporting another energy matrix. A smaller one. Dependent, but synchronized.”
Lex went very still. “You’re saying it’s alive.”
Hamilton hesitated. “I’m saying it’s behaving like an early-stage lifeform. But that shouldn’t be possible. Kryptonian biology doesn’t—”
“Doesn’t usually surprise me,” Lex finished for him, voice low. “And yet, here we are.”
Clark had gone quiet, watching their faces. “Wait,” he said, brow furrowing. “You mean there’s something else inside me?”
Hamilton looked apologetic. “Not in a harmful way, from what I can tell. Your energy levels are balanced, no distress signals, no internal conflict. It’s like your body recognized it and adjusted naturally.”
Clark blinked, still processing. “Lex?”
Lex’s throat felt tight. He wanted to laugh—or panic—or both. “We don’t know enough yet,” he managed, though his mind was already racing. The impossible had always fascinated him; it had never terrified him quite like this.
Hamilton packed up the scanner. “I’ll run more analysis back at the lab. For now, rest. Eat normally. And if you feel any unusual shifts like fatigue, cravings, or anything, note them.”
Clark gave a weak chuckle. “Cravings, huh. Guess that started early.”
Lex shot him a look, but it lacked its usual sharpness.
When the door closed behind the doctor, the silence settled like a blanket. Clark reached out, lacing their fingers together.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”
Lex stared at their joined hands for a moment. “You fainted yesterday. You woke me at three in the morning for pickles and noodles. And now you may be harboring a second heartbeat.”
“So that’s a no?”
Lex huffed out a short, helpless laugh. “That’s a very cautious no.”
Clark squeezed his hand, eyes warm. “Then whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”
Lex met his gaze and something inside him uncoiled. He exhaled, leaning down to press a brief kiss to Clark’s forehead.
“Together,” he murmured.
Clark smiled, leaning into his touch. Outside, the city was just beginning to stir, unaware that in one quiet penthouse, the impossible had already begun.
The lab was quiet, the city lights casting pale reflections across the monitors. Lex sat alone, staring at the data that refused to make sense: two energy signatures, one unmistakably Clark, the other… something new, synchronized, alive.
He had faced alien threats, rogue metahumans, even cosmic anomalies — nothing had stirred him like this. Something inside Clark was growing, changing, and Lex’s chest ached at the thought.
He thought back to last night: Clark half-asleep, eating pickles with peanut butter smeared on his fingers, trusting him completely. Funny, domestic, ridiculous — and yet sacred.
Lex leaned forward, isolating the readings again. The secondary signature pulsed in perfect harmony with Clark’s own energy, responding to every subtle shift. “Dependent,” he whispered. Not parasitic. Not harmful. Alive.
His mind wandered to the quiet mornings, Clark’s clingy smiles, the 3 a.m. cravings. Each small clue made sense now. Lex’s hands itched to protect him, to shield this miraculous life forming inside Clark.
He exhaled slowly, leaning back. No formula, no calculation could explain this, and yet he already knew one thing: he would protect them. Both of them. Every risk, every danger, every impossible variable.
Lex allowed himself a rare moment of awe, imagining Clark asleep, hair tousled, unaware of the storm swirling through the lab. Soft warmth, contentment, trust — it was all in his hands now, and he would not let it go.
“I’ll protect you,” he whispered. “Both of you.”
And for the first time, Lex allowed himself to hope—hope for safety, for joy, and for the impossible, miraculous future they were beginning together.
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, spilling gold across the bedroom. The air was calm, still, the kind of quiet that only existed when Metropolis was still half-asleep. Lex stirred first, instinctively reaching for the warmth beside him, only to find Clark missing.
That alone was unusual. Clark always lingered, half-draped over him long after dawn.
Lex sat up, frowning slightly, when a faint sound reached him from the bathroom—a choked breath, then the unmistakable sound of retching.
He was on his feet in seconds.
“Clark?” Lex’s voice was sharp, laced with alarm. He crossed the room in three strides and pushed open the door.
Clark was hunched over the sink, pale and shaky, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His hair was a mess, and his expression, embarrassed and almost sheepish, only made Lex’s chest tighten.
“I’m fine,” Clark croaked before Lex could speak. “Just a weird stomach thing. Maybe the leftover curry—”
“Curry doesn’t make you sick,” Lex cut in, voice clipped. He moved to Clark’s side, one hand already steadying his waist, the other pressing to his forehead like he could diagnose fever through sheer will. “You don’t get sick, Clark.”
Clark offered a wobbly smile. “Guess I’m breaking records today.”
But Lex wasn’t amused. He guided Clark to sit on the edge of the tub, crouching in front of him, eyes scanning every inch like a man cataloguing the impossible. His mind raced through possibilities—environmental toxins, Kryptonite exposure, cellular instability—all of them dreadful, all of them wrong.
“You’re staring like you expect me to combust.” Clark tried to joke.
“You fainted last week. You’ve been craving weird food combinations at the same time, and now you’re vomiting? Forgive me if I don’t find that reassuring.”
“Lex, I promise, I feel fine now. Really. You’re overreacting.” Clark sighed, leaning his head back against the wall.
“Overreacting?” Lex’s voice cracked on the word. “You’re Superman. You don’t throw up. You don’t get dizzy. You don’t—” he exhaled sharply, reigning himself in before he said too much. “You don’t do this.”
Clark blinked at him, bemused and fond. “You’ve been pacing like a mother hen lately. What’s going on with you?”
Lex hesitated. He had meant to wait, to confirm the data, to repeat the tests, but the sight of Clark trembling, even slightly, shattered his restraint.
“I ran scans,” he said finally, his tone quieter now. “When you fainted. There was something. A second energy signature, faint, but stable. At first I thought it was residue, but it’s synchronized with yours. Perfectly.”
Clark frowned, confused. “Meaning?”
Lex’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He didn’t trust his voice. Instead, he reached out, placing a trembling hand over Clark’s abdomen—tentative, reverent. “Meaning you’re not sick, Clark.” His gaze flicked up, eyes soft and wide with wonder and fear. “You’re pregnant.”
The word hung in the air, fragile and impossible.
Clark stared at him, stunned into silence. His brain tripped over the word, over its sheer absurdity. Kryptonians didn’t— he shouldn’t— it couldn’t—
“Lex,” he breathed, faintly laughing, like maybe this was some elaborate joke. “That’s— that’s impossible.”
“So are you.” Lex only looked at him, eyes glimmering.
For a long, breathless moment, they just stared at each other. Clark’s heart hammered in his chest, his body suddenly too warm, too alive. Lex’s hand still rested against his stomach, steady and sure.
“I would never lie to you about this,” Lex said softly. “I checked three times. It’s there. It’s real.”
Clark’s laugh broke halfway through a sob. He looked down at Lex’s hand, at the way his fingers trembled against him, and something deep inside him twisted — fear, awe, joy, disbelief all tangled together.
“I…” Clark swallowed hard. “I don’t even know how—”
“We’ll figure it out,” Lex murmured, voice cracking on the edges of calm. “We’ll call every specialist, every metahuman geneticist, every expert if we have to. But right now—” His voice softened, almost breaking. “Right now, you’re safe. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”
Clark’s vision blurred, a soft laugh escaping him despite the tears forming in his eyes. “You’re shaking,” he whispered.
Lex huffed, a small, helpless smile tugging at his lips. “I just found out my husband’s body decided to defy every known law of biology. Forgive me if I’m a little overwhelmed.”
Clark reached out, cupping Lex’s face, thumb brushing away the tension between his brows. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
Lex’s composure cracked completely then. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Clark’s, the smallest, shakiest laugh escaping him. “You’re the one doing all the impossible things,” he whispered.
Clark smiled, his hand sliding down to cover Lex’s on his belly. “Guess we’re doing this, huh?”
Lex looked up at him, eyes glistening. “Together.”
The world outside could have ended and neither of them would have noticed — not when Clark was smiling through disbelief, not when Lex was holding him like he was something precious, not when the impossible had become real between them.
Lex leaned in, kissing him softly, reverently. No urgency, no hunger this time—just quiet, trembling awe.
Lex thought they were finally out of the woods once Clark’s pregnancy was confirmed. But it turned out, that was only the start.
Morning sickness, Hamilton had called it—but there was nothing morning about it. Clark was sick all the time. He couldn’t keep food down, sometimes not even water. Every meal ended with him slumped over the sink, pale and trembling, apologizing between breaths. Lex tried to hide how much it scared him, but watching Clark waste away while growing a life inside him was something he was never prepared for.
He called Hamilton again, desperation creeping into his voice. The doctor was methodical as always. “He needs anti-emetics through IV infusion. It’s the only reliable way to stabilize him.”
“That means using kryptonite needle. Absolutely not.” Lex’s expression hardened.
“An oral solution won’t be effective,” Hamilton explained gently. “His metabolism burns through medication too quickly. The IV is the best option.”
Lex pinched the bridge of his nose, staring at the floor. “There has to be another way.”
That’s when Clark reached for him. His hand was warm, fingers curling weakly around Lex’s wrist. “Lex,” he murmured, voice soft but steady. “It’s okay. I trust you. Let's do it. For the baby.”
Lex looked down at him—those blue eyes still bright despite how tired he looked—and felt his chest ache. Clark was smiling, trying to reassure him, when it should’ve been the other way around.
“You don’t have to be brave for me,” Lex whispered, brushing a thumb over Clark’s knuckles.
Clark’s smile turned faintly teasing. “Too late. Already am.”
Lex sighed, heart breaking and full all at once. “You’re impossible.”
“But you love me anyway,” Clark said, squeezing his hand.
Lex pressed a kiss to his temple. “That’s the problem.”
Hamilton cleared his throat softly through the comm, his tone kinder now. “For what it’s worth, Lex… this won’t last forever. The first trimester is always the hardest—especially with Clark’s physiology. Once you get through this stage, things will ease up. He’ll be able to eat normally again.”
Lex exhaled, shoulders finally loosening. Clark’s eyes fluttered closed, comforted by both voices.
“See?” Clark mumbled, drowsy but smiling. “Just a few more weeks.”
Lex smoothed a hand through his hair, whispering, “A few more weeks,” like a promise.
Lex had only glanced at the television to check the stock ticker—and froze when the broadcast changed.
BREAKING NEWS: SUPERMAN STOPS INTERDIMENSIONAL IMP—METROPOLIS NEARLY ERASED.
The footage was chaotic: warped streets, fractured reflections of the city folding in on themselves. Cars hung suspended in midair; buildings rippled like mirages. In the middle of it all, a blur of blue and red streaked across the screen—Superman, thrown backward by an invisible force. The camera shook violently, catching only flashes of light before cutting to static.
Lex’s heart stopped.
He didn’t even realize he’d stood up until the pen rolled off his desk. His palms were damp. He watched the replay again—and again—searching for any sign that Clark had gotten out unscathed. He told himself not to overreact. He told himself Clark had been through worse. But his mind wouldn’t stop whispering, what if this time, he didn’t?
By the time Clark came home, the sky had already gone dark. The penthouse lights were low, soft reflections of the city bleeding through the windows. Lex was standing by the sofa, arms folded, jaw tight, the muted television flickering in the background like a heartbeat he couldn’t ignore.
Clark landed quietly behind him. His cape was torn at the hem; soot streaked his cheek, and there was a faint burn mark along his shoulder.
“Hey,” he started, voice gentle, almost hopeful.
“Don’t ‘hey’ me.” His voice was too calm—measured in that way it only was when he was holding back something sharp. “You were on the news.”
“Lex, it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Mxyzptlk popped in, made his usual mess. I handled it.” Clark sighed, shoulders slumping.
“Handled it?” Lex spun around then, eyes bright and furious. “You were thrown across half of Metropolis. Do you have any idea what that looked like?”
Clark’s mouth opened, but Lex cut him off. “You’re pregnant, Clark. There’s two of you now. It’s not just your life on the line anymore.”
The words hit like a physical blow. Clark blinked, caught off guard by the tremor in Lex’s voice.
“I just… people needed help,” Clark murmured, guilt softening his tone. “I couldn’t ignore that.”
Lex let out a bitter laugh, low and trembling. “And who helps you, Clark? What happens when you don’t come back next time?” His voice broke, quieter now. “I thought I’ll lose you today. I can’t—” He stopped himself, jaw clenching, eyes wet with everything he refused to say. “I can’t lose you. Either of you.”
Clark stepped closer, the weight of the words grounding him. The exhaustion showed now—in his posture, in the faint tremor of his hands. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I didn’t think. I just… acted.” He looked down at his stomach, resting a hand over it almost instinctively. “There’s a lot of people out there trying to kill Superman. Maybe it’s time he took a break.”
Lex blinked, the anger melting into disbelief. “You mean that?”
Clark nodded. “For the baby. For you. For us.” He reached out, taking Lex’s hand in both of his. “I’ll rest. I’ll stay grounded. Let the Justice Gang handle things for a while. Superman can wait.”
Lex exhaled, a shaky breath that sounded half like relief, half like surrender. He stepped forward, brushing soot from Clark’s cheek, his touch gentle. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he whispered.
Clark smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “I think I do.”
Lex rested his forehead against Clark’s chest, feeling the slow, steady rhythm beneath his ear. The cape still smelled faintly of smoke, but underneath it was him—familiar, solid, safe.
“You’re both too important to risk,” Lex murmured.
Clark chuckled softly, the sound rumbling against Lex’s temple.
“Guess Superman’s officially on paternity leave.”
Lex huffed out a small laugh, his lips curving against Clark’s shirt. “Finally. Maybe now I’ll sleep at night.”
Clark pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You’ll still worry.”
“Always,” Lex murmured, eyes fluttering shut. “But at least now, when I wake up, you’ll be here.”
Clark’s arms tightened around him, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Lex woke to the faintest whisper of movement beside him—the soft rustle of sheets, a sigh, the subtle weight of Clark shifting in the dark.
He cracked one eye open, vision still hazy with sleep, and there he was. Clark hovered guiltily by the bed, hair sticking up in every direction, wearing one of Lex’s shirts that barely reached his thighs. The fabric stretched slightly over the small but noticeable swell of his three-month bump, the sight both absurdly endearing and completely disarming.
It was three in the morning. Again.
“Clark,” Lex rasped, voice rough from sleep. “Tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”
Clark froze mid-step, caught like a kid sneaking cookies. “Okay, but hear me out,” he said, sheepish grin creeping across his face. “I just really, really want Dough’s Hole bagels right now.”
Lex groaned softly and dropped his head back against the pillow. “They’re closed, Clark. Everything’s closed. It’s three a.m.”
Clark’s lower lip jutted out in a pout so devastating Lex swore it could bend steel. “But Lex… it’s for the baby.”
Lex cracked one eye open again. “You cannot use that phrase as a weapon.”
Clark tilted his head, the corners of his mouth lifting in a grin that was far too charming for someone wearing his shirt backwards. “Please?”
Lex squinted at him. “You’re actually serious.”
Clark nodded solemnly, wide-eyed. “The baby really wants one. An everything bagel. With cream cheese. And honey. Maybe bacon too—if they still have it.”
Lex sighed, rubbing his temple. “They don’t have it, Clark. Because they’re closed. Like all sane establishments at this hour.”
“Please?” Clark repeated softly, almost whispering now—sweet and sleepy and impossible to resist.
Lex stared at him for a long moment, watching the way Clark’s fingers absently rested over the small curve of his stomach. His expression softened before he could stop it.
He threw off the blanket with a resigned groan. “You’re impossible.”
Clark’s face broke into a grin so bright it could’ve lit up the room. “You love me.”
“I do,” Lex muttered, grabbing his robe. “Unfortunately for me, I also love the baby, which apparently means indulging midnight carb cravings.”
Clark practically beamed. “The baby and I are very grateful.”
Lex was halfway through tying his robe when Clark swooped in and kissed him—slow, warm, and full of laughter.
“You’re the best,” Clark murmured against his lips, smiling so wide Lex could feel it. Then, with mock solemnity, he added, “The baby agrees.”