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Kyle has never liked Clark Kent.
There’s just something about him. The over-the-top farmboy charm. The awkward, nerdy air. The way he always seems to be exactly where you don’t want him. So whenever Kyle feels the need to take out his frustrations on someone… well, Kent’s an easy target. And when he sees the baggy, obviously hand-me-down gym shorts, a devious idea starts to form.
As the class circles around the basketball court, Kyle plays it off like he’s just stumbled. But at the last moment he swerves, grabbing Kent’s shorts and yanking them down his legs.
“Hey!” Kent frantically tries to pull them back up, his face turning scarlet. But Kyle keeps a tight hold, sending him crashing down into the bleachers instead. There’s a painful thunk as his head collides with the metal.
“Cushing!”
Kyle winces at the sound of the coach’s voice. Yeah. He’s gonna get it.
As he’s steered away towards the principal’s office, Kyle chances a look back. Kent sits there on the bleachers, letting the assistant coach look at his forehead. Funny, he doesn’t even wince when her fingers make contact…
Asking out Lana is the last straw.
Lana is his girl. He’s been waiting to play his hand for months, preparing the perfect prom-posal, and then Kent comes in at the last second to mumble his way through a few sentences and steal Kyle's thunder. What’s worse, Kyle has never seen Lana smile like that. Ever. Certainly not for him.
Someone needs to teach Kent a few manners. So Kyle rounds up a few friends to jump him after practice.
Kent doesn’t put up much resistance. He’s not actually a scrawny kid – he’s bigger than Kyle – but you’d be forgiven for not realizing it based on how he shrinks into himself. Kyle easily scoops him up by the back of his shirt and hauls him out to the fields behind the school. Once they reach the old rusted tractor, they get to work with the duct tape, sticking him to the metal with piece after piece after piece.
“Come on, guys…” Kent protests weakly, but he makes no effort to pull himself free.
Kyle jabs an accusing finger towards his face. “This is for asking out my girl.”
“She’s not your—”
“Shut it. Hope you have a nice evening, Kent.”
For just a second, something flickers behind Kent’s eyes, like he wants to fight back. But it fades almost immediately. Besides, what could he even do?
So they leave him behind, his tiny complaints growing fainter and fainter.
Rain pours that night. The temperature dips to an unpleasant chill. Kyle does his best to ignore it, he really does. But finally, images of Kent freezing to death out in that field get to his head. Already grumbling to himself, he heads back out to see if he’s learned his lesson.
When he arrives, Kent is gone. The tape has been ripped clean off the tractor.
Somebody must have helped him down. But who?
Doesn’t matter. Kyle gathers his coat around himself and hurries back home.
It’s absolutely broiling on graduation day.
Kyle sits there in his bright red cap and gown, fanning himself with the little pamphlet they’d given him. He feels like a Thanksgiving turkey. But they’re not even halfway through the class yet.
His classmates march across the stage, shaking hands, taking their diplomas, posing for their pictures. Kyle tunes most of them out. There’s only a handful of names he cares about. Instead, he daydreams about the reception afterwards, the snacks, seeing Lana in her dress…
“Clark Joseph Kent!”
The crowd falls awkwardly silent, murmurs drifting through the air. Behind the microphone, the vice principal suddenly looks up, realizing there’s been a mistake. Kent had disappeared without a word back in the fall – not even to Lana, who Kyle had found bawling her eyes out more than once. Just another weird occurrence in Smallville, Kansas.
And someone had forgotten to remove his name.
Kyle’s eyes find Kent’s mother, sitting near the front of the audience. It’s hard to tell from this distance, but it looks like she’s holding back tears. Damn, maybe she doesn't even know where her son is. He’d always known there was something shifty about that guy…
But he’s gone now. Lana is all his. That should probably feel a lot better than it does.
The vice principal clears her throat and continues to the next name, determined to move on. Kyle sighs, settling back into his chair until the ceremony is over. Kent’s not even here and he’s still managed to almost ruin the day. Typical.
“So what do you think of that Superman?”
Kyle shifts in his seat at the fire station, not even glancing up from the cards in his hand. “I’m still not convinced he’s real.” Despite having seen multiple news reports full of clips of the man… it won’t quite register.
Across the table, Tamera laughs. “Really? The Daily Planet’s not one to just make things up.”
“It just seems too good to be true, that’s all.” Kyle tosses another couple chips onto the pile. “A guy in spandex with super powers just going around helpin’ people for the sake of it? I don’t know if I buy that.”
“So which part are you not believing, exactly?” Tamera asks. “The powers, or the helping people?”
“All of it.” People can’t fly. And people aren’t that nice. Not without wanting something in return. “Are you playing or not?”
Tamera sighs and adds her own chips. “Raise you ten. I think it’s a good thing. I think people need someone to believe in.”
“I don’t know.” Kyle points to the fire truck on the other side of the station. “I’d rather put my trust in that any day. Instead of a guy who wears his underpants on the outside.”
“You’re such a cynic,” Tamera teases. “I think it's great to have an actual hero to believe in. Maybe we’ll get to meet him one day.”
Kyle chuckles. “Oh, I doubt that. But keep on dreaming, Tamera. Keep on dreaming.”
“Babe. You are never gonna guess who I just ran into.”
Kyle glances up from under the hood of his car as Lana enters the garage. He can’t help but grin – she looks radiant. It still doesn’t feel entirely real that he’s the one getting to marry her.
“I don’t know. Emily?”
“No. Clark.”
Lana’s eyes shine, but Kyle can feel his expression faltering. “Kent?” When she nods, he adds, “He’s back in town?”
“Just for a visit. Apparently he lives in Metropolis now.”
“Clark Kent? In the big city?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t believe it either.”
Kyle scowls. “He have anything to say for himself?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s been what, seven years? The guy can’t just up and vanish and then expect to waltz right back into your life.” And Kyle had been the one to help her pick up the pieces. Not Kent. Him.
“He apologized, if that’s what you mean.”
“Better have been a damn good apology.”
“It was.”
Scoffing, Kyle closes the car’s hood with more force than he’d meant. “Great.”
“Kyle…” Lana steps closer, resting a gentle hand on his arm. “You don’t have to be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous!” he protests, though they both know damn well it’s a lie.
“Clark might be back in my life. But I’m marrying you. I love you. That’s never changing.”
Lana’s eyes make his insides melt. His posture softens. “...yeah?”
“Yes.”
She leans in for a kiss that makes him see stars.
When he’s finally caught his breath again, all he can do is grin. “As long as you’re happy.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
Kent looks different.
Obviously, he should. It’s been years. But it’s more than that. When Kyle opens the front door to welcome him inside for the dinner Lana arranged, he’s struck by Kent’s posture. There’s a quiet confidence that he’s never seen there before. A bit of joy dancing behind his new, nerdy-ass glasses.
“Hi, Kyle.” Kent awkwardly offers his hand. “It’s been a while.”
“Damn right, it has.” Kyle briefly accepts the handshake. “How you been, Kent?”
“Oh, you know.” Kent shrugs the question off before turning to the woman beside him. “This is my girlfriend, Lois. Lois, Kyle.”
Right. Kyle shakes her hand, too. “I’ve seen you on TV. You’re the Superman reporter.”
Lois forces a friendly little smile. “I do report on other things, too. But yes, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you.”
Kyle ushers them inside, closing the door behind them. Lana wraps Kent in a hug the moment they enter the room, and something twists in Kyle’s gut. She really thinks she can rebuild a friendship with the guy who bailed on her for seven years? But that’s his fiancée – forgiving to a fault.
Dinner progresses about as expected – pleasantries, small talk. It seems that Kent spent a lot of time traveling. He knows a shocking amount about places Kyle’s never even heard of. As there’s something strangely reassuring in the way he keeps looking at Lois, like his heart wants to beat right out of his chest whenever he remembers she’s there. Maybe he really has moved on from Lana.
Eventually, the conversation shifts to what’s been on everyone’s mind over the past year or so. “Lois, I have to ask…” Lana begins, watching the other woman across the table. “You’ve actually met Superman. What’s he like?”
A smile spreads across Lois’ cheeks. “He is… everything you’ve heard and more.”
For some reason, Kent blushes, glancing down at the floor. Kyle leans forward curiously. “Have you met him, Kent?”
Kent’s head shoots back up. “What? Oh, um… just… in passing. Nothing worth mentioning.”
Beside him, Kyle could swear that Lois smirks. Just for a moment. Huh.
Later, as Lana pulls out dessert from the fridge, Kent suddenly turns his head like a meerkat, his eyes widening slightly.
“You good, Kent?”
“What?” Kent turns to look at him owlishly. “Oh – yeah, fine. I, uh… I…”
Lois cuts in smoothly. “Did you remember to make that phone call?”
“No,” Kent says, very quickly. “I am so sorry, I just need to step out – this is important. Sorry.” Then he practically stumbles his way out the front door, closing it quickly behind him.
Lana’s chuckle drifts over from the kitchen. “Same old Clark.”
Yep. Same old Kent. Weird as ever.
The wedding feels like a dream, in all the best ways. Kyle will remember the first sight of Lana in her dress for as long as he lives – the rest is a joyous blur.
A couple hours into the reception, Lana excuses herself to freshen up. Kyle heads for the buffet table to get himself another glass of wine – and a figure catches his eye. “Kent.” He hadn’t been sure about inviting him to the wedding, but Lana had insisted – and said it would be a good idea for all three of them to close the door on their history.
“Kyle,” Kent replies, smiling. “Congratulations. Those were beautiful vows.”
“Thanks.”
An awkward silence stretches between them.
“Hope the drive from Metropolis wasn’t bad,” Kyle offers after a moment.
“No. Not too bad.”
More silence.
Finally, Kyle has to just say it. “Look, man. I hope there’s not any weirdness. With this. I mean, I know you and Lana used to be a thing, and now it’s Lana and me, and so it’s all just a bit…”
He can’t find the words, but Kent is already shaking his head. “Oh, no, no. That… is all in the past.”
“Is it?”
Kent hesitates, then shrugs a little. “I wasn’t there. You were. And you make her happy. I won’t get in the way of that.”
That’s something. And Kyle has never known Kent to be a liar. “Well, good. Glad to hear it.”
“Of course.” Kent pulls a hand from his pocket, holding it forward. Probably wanting to make it more official, or something – he’s still got those farmboy manners. After a moment, Kyle reaches to accept the handshake. At least they have an understanding.
He’s about to pull away when Kent steps closer, his grip tightening. Tightening a lot. Jesus Christ. What the hell have they been feeding him in Metropolis? “But just so you know,” Kent begins, his casual tone not at all matching the vicegrip that’s squeezing the life of Kyle’s palm, “if you ever do anything to hurt Lana, I will personally make sure that you regret it for the rest of your life.”
Kyle gawks, searching Kent’s face for any sign of a joke. He doesn’t find one. Instead, there’s something genuinely intimidating behind his big blue eyes.
But it’s Clark Kent. What can Clark Kent possibly do to him?
Suddenly, his hand is free. Kent gives him a friendly smile. “Thanks for having me. I’m gonna get more of those deviled eggs.”
And he walks away, leaving Kyle gingerly flexing his aching fingers. What in the actual hell…?
“I’m home!”
Kyle barely glances up from his paperwork as Lana steps into the kitchen. “How’d it go with the Kents?”
“Great.” Lana pulls off her jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair before leaning against the counter. “They’re moving here.”
That gets Kyle’s attention. He sets his pen down, considering. “Really?”
“Yeah. They’re taking over the loan payments. Clark said he’s thinking about running the farm again.”
What a strange thought. Clark Kent, back in Smallville after all these years. “Well, I’ll be damned. I thought for sure Kent was a city boy now.”
“He seemed pretty excited about it. I think it’ll be good to have him back in town again.”
There’s that twist in his gut again – the jealousy. Even after all these years, it’s still there. It’s not that he thinks she could cheat on him – she doesn’t have that within her, not the way he does. It’s more the knowledge that his wife shares a friendship that’s older and deeper than anything he’ll ever have.
When he doesn’t respond, Lana seems to sense the direction of his thoughts. And she huffs. “Kyle.”
“What?” he protests, annoyed. That’s all they ever seem to be with each other lately. Annoyed. He tries to smooth it over. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
It doesn’t work. “Sure you are.” Lana doesn’t bother saying anything else, just picks up her jacket and leaves. Kyle watches her go.
Main Street is a wreck following Edge’s final attack. Kyle spends the entire morning coordinating his team and a group of volunteers, directing them to gather up debris, assess structural damage, rope off any unsafe areas. They’re making slow but steady progress. And it’s strangely reassuring, seeing people come together like this. It hasn't happened in a long, long time.
He takes a breather after a few hours, leaning against the window of the Gazette and sipping from a water bottle. A few people are replacing Vicky May’s window down the street. It’s a damn good sight.
The Gazette door opens beside him. Kyle glances over curiously – and does a double take.
“Superman!”
The man turns toward him, offering a friendly smile and a polite nod. “Hello.”
Damn. It’s really him. With the suit and the cape and the boots. Though he somehow seems smaller in person…
And he’s looking at Kyle expectantly. Shit.
“Wow. Um… sorry, I just… didn’t think we’d see you around here again. Figured you’d be out stopping an earthquake or… catching a skyscraper, or something.” Kyle can feel the awkward smile spreading across his face. What is he even saying?
Superman seems used to it, though. “I just finished providing some statements to Miss Beppo. People deserve to know what really happened here.”
“Yeah! Yeah, definitely, yeah.” Kyle’s hometown, the center of a major crisis. And the only reason anyone’s safe is the man standing in front of him. Usually, if something seems too good to be true, it is – but everyone once in a while, it's just a miracle.
“I know you probably get this a lot. But I just – I wanted to thank you. For everything you’ve done for this town. I mean, for the world, really, but especially here. People were in a pretty bad spot, with Edge and everything, and if it weren’t for you, I mean… we…”
Jesus. He’s babbling worse than Kent.
But Superman takes it in stride, smiling and nodding. “You’re very welcome, Chief.”
Kyle blinks. Does Superman know who he is? “How do you know I’m the fire chief?”
“I make it a point to keep an eye on things,” Superman replies, before his gaze drops briefly to the stripes on Kyle’s shoulder. “And it’s on your shirt.”
Oh. Right. Should have known that, really.
Knowing he’ll never get this chance again, Kyle takes a small step closer. “Listen, Superman…” It feels so strange to say that. “... could I shake your hand?”
For a second, it almost looks like Superman is going to blush. But he just says, “Of course.”
Kyle reaches out, and Superman grasps his hand, firmly. Naturally. He would have a tight grip.
The handshake only lasts for a moment before Superman steps back. “I have to go. Keep up the good work.”
“Oh! Yes. Absolutely.” For some reason, Kyle finds himself doing a little salute. Superman smiles once more – then launches into the air. It only takes seconds for him to completely disappear from view, Kyle gawking up after him.
“Kyle, these really are delicious.”
Kyle just laughs. It’s a common compliment at one of his barbecues, and he's gone all out for this one – celebrating all the insanity with Morgan Edge finally being over. “Glad you approve, Kent.”
Kent steps closer to the grill where Kyle cooks, holding a plate and sucking a bit of rib seasoning off his fingers. “You know, I have my dad’s old grill somewhere. But it’s pretty rusted.”
“Well, you might be able to breathe some new life into it.” Kyle glances over, then finds his eyes suddenly lingering – does Kent normally wear short sleeves? And has he always been that… jacked? But he’s not about to ogle another man’s biceps, so he quickly looks back at the sizzling ribs in front of him.
Kent’s eyebrows raise slightly – did he notice? – but all he says is, “I’m better in the kitchen than on the grill anyway. I think I’ll leave that to you.”
He turns, about to leave, but something compels Kyle to stop him. “Kent.”
Kent stops, watching him curiously.
“Listen, I, uh… I know we haven’t exactly gotten along in the past.” To put it mildly. “But… I’m real glad you’re back. Smallville’s always been better with Kents in it.”
Kent’s eyes search his face – and damn, they are blue. “Thanks, Kyle.”
Kyle lifts his spatula in some sort of wave. Kent smiles, then turns to find his family in the crowd.
Everything’s gone wrong, and now he has a flat tire.
It doesn’t seem entirely fair to say gone wrong, though. He’s the one who’d messed it all up. He’s the one who’d started drinking way too damn much, who’d started carrying on with another woman, who’d betrayed his family. For what? Numbing a bit of the pain sometimes? A handful of good nights? Had that really been worth it?
Kyle scowls as he steps out into the rain. Of course this couldn’t happen on a nice, sunny day. He wrestles his toolkit and the spare tire out of the back and sets to work.
A few minutes later, the crunch of gravel under tires gets his attention. Someone’s pulling up behind him in a familiar red truck. The driver steps out moments later, heading his way.
“Everything okay?”
Kyle can barely hear Kent over the rain. “Just got a flat.”
“I can help.”
“You don’t have to–” Kyle replies, but Kent ignores him, instead crouching down and passing him a wrench from the toolkit.
Sheepishly, Kyle accepts it, not quite looking at him. “...thanks. Though I wouldn’t have blamed you for driving right on by. I know I’m not exactly anyone’s favorite person right now.”
“No arguments from me.”
Kyle dares a glance in his direction. And there it is again. That strange hint of steel behind his gaze. Like he’s not someone that you should ever, ever cross.
And they both seem to be remembering the same thing. “Do you remember what I said to you at your wedding?” Kent asks, his voice entirely calm.
Kyle manages a nervous laugh. “Yeah. You, uh… you were kinda terrifying.”
“That was the idea.”
God damn. He would make a mental note to never piss this guy off – except he knows that he already has. And somehow, that’s not even the worst part.
“Listen… there is nothing you can say or do that’s gonna make me feel any worse than I already do. I screwed up. And I’m probably gonna be trying to make up for it for the rest of my life.”
Kent’s shockingly blue eyes bore into him. “I know. Just making sure you remember.”
They don’t say anything else. Kent helps him maneuver the spare tire onto his car, then he drives away, leaving Kyle shivering in the rain.
It’s supposed to be Jonathan. That’s what all the evidence points to. Jonathan Kent is the one with superpowers. Not his dad.
Except he’d just seen Clark Kent rocket up into the sky like it was nothing.
The more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes. All those strange things that happened in Smallville – they’d stopped right around the time Kent left. Then he’d moved back, and immediately, weirdness again.
And it had all been tied to one specific person. Superman.
Somehow, it adds up. Kent’s mysterious strength. His flying. His weirdly muscular figure. His ability to tap into a truly threatening aura. The way he constantly disappears from events, stammering terrible excuses. Lois’ unusual connection with the Man of Steel. The steady uptick in Superman sightings around Smallville.
As soon as Kyle parks outside his apartment, he pulls out his phone and looks up a picture of Superman. There’s one from the interview Chrissy did last year. Squinting, Kyle tries to imagine a pair of glasses on his face, flannel instead of the cape…
And it’s so obviously the same person.
Mierda. How the hell had he not noticed it before?
He’d met Superman. Spoken to him face-to-face. Shaken his hand. It still hadn’t registered.
In a daze, Kyle heads inside, the revelation still twisting over and over and over in his mind.
When Kyle cautiously opens the door to the Gazette, Kent is waiting for him.
Chrissy’s there, too, offering him a sweet smile. Kyle barely manages a nod in her direction, fully focused on Kent’s tense posture and uncertain expression. He’d gotten a short and simple text from the man an hour ago – Meet me at the Gazette. No further information.
“Morning,” Kent says stiffly.
“Morning,” Kyle echoes, slowly moving closer. There should probably be something else to say – some question, some demand. Instead he’s just dumbfounded.
Thankfully, Kent breaks the silence first. “I promised you an explanation. But I need you to know that what I’m about to tell you… it’s big. And it might even put you in danger.”
Kyle glances over his shoulder at Chrissy, who’s clearly listening. Surely they can’t discuss this in front of her. “Is, uh… is she…?”
But Kent just nods. “She already knows.”
Oh. Chrissy knows. How long has she known?
Kyle turns back to Kent, and decides to rip the band-aid off. “Are you Superman?”
Kent watches him for a long moment. Then he just says, “Yes.”
Shit. Some part of Kyle had been thinking he had it all wrong, that he’d jumped to some wild conclusion. But hearing confirmed so casually actually makes him shiver a little. “And… you’ve always been Superman.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve always had powers.”
“Yep.”
“Even when we were kids?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That just… seems too ridiculous to be true.”
“Well, that’s sort of the idea.” Kent shrugs casually, as though he hasn’t completely shattered Kyle’s entire worldview.
“It’s really not Jonathan?”
Kent sighs heavily. “No. Jon… has been covering for his brother.”
His brother? “What – Jordan?”
Kent nods. “I’ve been training him. But he’s still figuring things out. And I will be talking to him about being more careful.”
Goddamn. Suddenly, Jordan’s flakiness with Sarah makes a lot more sense, too. His daughter’s been dating Superboy.
And Superman is standing right in front of him.
“It’s just – wow,” Kyle stammers. “You’re Superman.”
Kent drops his head sheepishly.
“You were always such a wiry little kid in high school, though,” Kyle continues, barely noticing that he’s just babbling now. “Doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yep,” Kent agrees.
More and more awkward interactions are popping into his head now. “By the way, I really appreciate you not lasering my ass that time that I, uh… pantsed you in gym class.”
Kent winces slightly in remembrance. “Maybe we just, uh… don’t do it again.”
“Hey, those days are long gone.” Definitely. No more pantsing. No more duct-taping to tractors. Damn, he must have pulled himself free…
Kent chuckles, then exchanges a glance with Chrissy over Kyle’s shoulder. “So, all I ask is that you keep everything I just told you a secret.”
“Oh! Yeah.” It’s not like there’s anyone he could tell, anyway. Chrissy already knows. And the more he’s thought about, he’s pretty sure Lana and Sarah know, too. Besides… he’s not about to let Superman of all people down. “Of course. Anything you say, Superman.”
Kyle offers a handshake, which Kent accepts with an awkward smile. “Let’s, uh… let’s just stick with Kent.”
Right. “Got it.”
Kent sheepishly points towards the door. And then he’s just gone. All the papers on the desk flutter in the breeze left behind him.
Holy shit.
Kyle has always found Kent’s tendency to ramble incoherently kinda annoying. But now that he knows that Superman is in their midst… he keeps doing the same damn thing. Complete with a dorky grin and awkward hand gestures. He can feel it happening, too, but it just won’t stop. Christ.
He’s halfway through some long-winded pitch about Superman helping at the fire station when Kent’s hand finally comes up to stop him. “Kyle.”
He halts mid-sentence, staring.
Kent sighs and lowers his voice, casting a wary eye at the other firemen across the room. “Look… one of the main reasons I have this whole double identity is so people don’t treat me differently.”
“What, like… people might be mean to you cause you’re… you-know-who?”
“Yes,” Kent concedes. “Or… they might act like I'm some sort of celebrity.”
Ah. Kyle shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “It’s just… I haven’t always been the nicest to you. I’m trying to make up for it.”
“And that’s fine! I appreciate it,” Kent quickly replies. “But… when I’m here, with the glasses, I’m Clark Kent. That’s all. So please, just…”
He holds up his hands a bit pleadingly. Kyle nods vaguely. “Sure. Sure, boss, whatever you say.”
Kent gives him a somewhat disbelieving look – before his head turns sharply. Right. The super-hearing.
“Gotta go?” Kyle asks, and Kent nods before hurrying out the door. Superman off to save the day.
It can’t be true.
All Kyle can do is stare at the newspaper as he sits at the Vicky May’s counter. A World Without Superman.
But that can’t be right. It’s Superman. He’s just… a fact. Superman can’t die.
Kent can’t die.
The man has somehow become a permanent fixture in Kyle’s life lately. Part of the community. And now he’s been ripped away, far too soon. By some creature beyond anyone’s comprehension.
His boys are only sixteen. The same age Kent had been when his own father died. Way too damn young.
The door jingles open behind him. Heels click across the tile before Lana steps into view beside him. It only takes a single glance for Kyle to spot the carefully neutral expression, the slightly smudged makeup, the puffy red cheeks.
His heart drops. “Lana…”
She looks over at him, her eyes dropping briefly to the newspaper set in front of him.
“Is this real?” Kyle whispers. “Is he really…?”
Lana’s lip trembles, and she nods.
Damn it all. Lana might not be his wife anymore, but he can’t bear to see her upset. Without another word, Kyle stands and steps closer, pulling her into his arms. She clings to him, crying softly into his shoulder while he rubs her back, trying desperately to make things seem even a little bit okay. But he doesn’t see how they can be. Not when Smallville’s lost its best man.
It’s just supposed to be a quick stop at the Gazette. Chrissy had forgotten a couple things at his apartment, so he’s running them over to her, like a good fiancé. Strangely, the blinds are drawn and the closed sign is up as he approaches, but he can make out a couple silhouettes inside, so he tries the door anyway.
Two heads lift up as he steps inside – Chrissy and Lois, bent over a pile of documents spread across their desks.
“I brought your–” Kyle begins, but Chrissy cuts him off, bouncing over to him, beaming.
“Babe, you are never gonna believe this.”
Huh? “Believe what?”
Chrissy opens her mouth to reply, but movement across the room catches his attention first. A familiar figure stepping out of the storage closet, two boxes stacked in his hands.
Kyle’s jaw hits the floor. “Clark?”
Kent glances up like a deer in the headlights, blue eyes incredibly wide behind his glasses. “...hi, Kyle.”
“What… but…” Kyle tentatively moves closer, watching Kent carefully as he sets the boxes down. It sure does look like him, and sound like him. Just to confirm, Kyle reaches out and pokes his arm. Feels like him, too.
“But… you’re dead.” Kent averts his gaze so quickly that Kyle winces. Really have to step right in it, don’t you, Cush?
“I was, yeah,” Kent confirms, awkwardly sticking his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, it’s only been a few days, we haven’t gotten around to telling everyone yet…”
“Oh! God, no. You got nothing to apologize for. It’s just – it’s real good to see you, pal.” Kyle gives him a firm clap on the shoulder.
“Thanks,” Kent replies, shifting in place a little. “Just, um… we’re keeping things quiet, for now. Otherwise, Luthor will send that thing again, and… uh… we’ve definitely proven that I’m not a match for it… so…”
It takes a moment to process the look in Kent’s eyes. Kyle has seen it time and time again, on countless people after pulling them from a burning building. The distant expression of someone who’s lost something they’d never imagined possible. Someone facing a trauma beyond their comprehension.
He’d just never expected to see it on Superman.
But it’s not just Superman. Is it? It’s Clark Kent. A husband. A father. A regular guy with a more-or-less regular life. Back from beyond the grave.
Hesitantly, Kyle rests his hand on Clark’s arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he replies automatically, forcing a bit of a smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“I can think of about a dozen reasons.”
Kent visibly flounders for several seconds before managing a tiny shrug.
Maybe it’s best not to press too hard. Kyle squeezes briefly. “Listen, um… if you want to talk, or… something. I’ll be around, aight?”
Clark turns to him, searching his face… before offering a tiny but genuine smile, along with a brief nod.
When Kyle eventually leaves the Gazette, the grin won’t leave his face. He should have known that even death wouldn’t stop Superman.
The past few months have been a whirlwind – moving into his new house with Chrissy, setting up the nursery, attempting to convince his fiancée to take it easy during her pregnancy while knowing full well that she won’t. But he’s been looking forward to their date night for the past two weeks.
He should have known that something would happen.
Chrissy apologizes profusely as she gathers up her things. “It’s just, this guy never agrees to interviews, and he’s only available tonight, so it has to be right now. I’m sorry, babe,” she adds, stretching up to give him a very quick kiss. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Kyle relents. “Yeah, of course. Go do your thing.”
Across the room, Lois offers similar apologies to Kent, who just smiles and nods. He’s evidently very used to this. And considering how often he flies off to respond to some crisis, it must go both ways. “I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up.”
Then they’re both gone, the Gazette’s door jingling as it closes behind them.
Kyle sighs. “Well. There goes my evening plans.”
“Yep.” Kent agrees, leaning back against one of the desks. It’s still strange seeing him without the glasses. But ever since he’d dropped the whole secret identity, the change has been undeniable. There’s a sort of calmness to the way he carries himself now, like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders.
“Guess I’ll just go home and watch the game.” Kyle scoops his coat off the back of the chair.
Clark’s eyes light up a little. “The Meteors?”
“And the Diamonds, yeah.”
“Ohh… I forgot that was tonight. Yeah, I’ll probably do the same.”
“You can watch at my place, if you want.”
Kyle doesn’t fully process that the invitation has left his lips until Kent’s eyebrows shoot up. Oh. Despite everything, the insanity of the last several years, their families becoming inextricably linked, he and Kent have never just… hung out. One-on-one. Like a regular pair of friends. That’s not who they are.
Clark doesn’t answer right away. But right when Kyle is about to dismiss the idea himself, he smiles. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Great. Good, yeah.” Christ, what is it about Kent that makes him forget how to speak sometimes? “Um… I’ll drive.”
Kyle and Chrissy’s new house is a significant improvement over his dingy old studio. Most of the furniture is thrifted, but it’s at least comfortable. He awkwardly ushers Kent inside, stepping into the kitchen. “Want a drink?”
“Sure.” Kent stands there with his hands in his pockets, seeming somewhat out of place.
But when Kyle opens the fridge, it’s alarmingly empty. No beers, of course – he’s been doing so well getting his sobriety chips – but they should have something. He crouches down in the pantry instead, eventually pulling out a six-pack of Coke bottles. “Looks like all I got is some warm pop. I got ice, though.”
He starts towards the freezer, but Kent steps closer, holding out his hand and gesturing for the pack. Confused, Kyle passes it over. Kent holds it up in front of his face – and exhales sharply. A blast of ice bursts from his mouth, coating all six bottles in a thin layer of frost. Then he casually pulls one free and hands the rest back.
“...now that’s damn useful.” Kyle takes out a bottle for himself. It’s just the right temperature, on the verge of turning into slush.
Clark shrugs. “What’s the point in having super powers if you can’t have a little fun with them?”
Well, it’s nice to know that even Superman can have some petty joys. “Here’s a question for ya,” Kyle asks, pulling a bag of chips out of the pantry. “You’ve got that x-ray thing, right? You can see through stuff?”
“Uh, yes. But I only use it when I have to. It’s sort of invasive, you know.”
“So you’re telling me that in all the time we were in high school, you never once took a peek into the girls’ locker room?”
Clark looks mortified. “Kyle!”
Kyle grins, holding up his hands in slight surrender. “I’m just saying. That’s the first thing I would have thought of.”
“No. I never intentionally looked into the girls’ locker room.”
Oh, there is one word in that sentence doing a lot of heavy lifting. “Intentionally?”
Clark sighs, his cheeks actually turning scarlet. “It may have… happened accidentally. Once. Just once!”
“And I bet you didn’t look away immediately, huh?”
“I’m not answering that.”
Kyle throws back his head and laughs. After a minute, Clark starts to chuckle too, glancing down at the floor.
“Can I ask you something else?” Kyle steers Clark over into the living room, plopping himself into his favorite armchair and turning on the TV.
Clark settles onto the edge of the couch nearby. “If it’s about the grossest thing I’ve ever seen or heard, I’m not telling you.”
Well. He hadn’t wondered that before, but now… but he shrugs it off. Maybe sometime later he’ll try and weasel it out of him. “Nah. It’s just… the flying.” Out of everything Superman can do, that’s the one that’s fascinated him the most. Being able to just move through the air, completely unencumbered, going where you please, when you please… “What’s that feel like?”
Clark doesn’t answer right away, just sits back, considering. “It’s like… when you’re on a roller coaster,” he finally says. “And you’ve just reached the top of the hill. You’re looking down at the drop ahead, and there’s that feeling in your chest, that… thrill, the anticipation. And the jolt in your gut when you’re just starting to fall. Multiply that by about… a thousand? And that’s how it feels. Kinda.”
Damn. “That sounds sorta terrifying.”
“It is,” Clark concedes. “But…”
“It’s fun?”
Clark’s voice drops to an exhilarated whisper. “It’s so fun.”
Kyle chuckles. “Wish I could try it.”
“I wish everyone could.”
They keep talking – about powers, about Smallville, about basically anything – while the baseball game continues, ignored, across the room.
“Ready for your boys’ night out?”
Kyle almost groans. “Do we have to call it that?”
Chrissy smiles, leaning against the doorframe with their son cradled in her arms. Diego. The newest love of his life. “Am I wrong?”
“It’s just a couple of pals heading out to the ball game.” Though if someone had told him five years ago that he’d consider Superman his pal – or Clark Kent, for that matter – he would have burst out laughing. Now, he just resists the urge to clobber the hood of his car with the wrench in his hand. Why had he insisted on getting an antique? He spends more time repairing the damn thing than driving it.
“Still not starting?” Chrissy asks, and Kyle shakes his head.
“Nope. And Kent’s the slowest driver on the planet, so if we take his car, there’s no way in hell we’re making it on time.”
“Hey…” A faint protest drifts across the garage, moments before Kent himself steps into view. “I’m not that bad.”
Both Kyle and Chrissy reply at the same time. “Yes, you are.”
Clark’s shoulders and head droop. Kyle chuckles… before the expression fades. “Thing is, there’s no way this car is getting us to Metropolis tonight. Not in time for first pitch, anyway. So unless you got a better idea…”
Something starts to dance behind Clark’s eyes – a bit of mischief. He exchanges a brief glance with Chrissy, who visibly stifles a laugh. Huh?
Clark steps forward, his voice calm and casual. “Do you get motion sick?”
What does that have to do with…? “Uh… no. Not usually. Why–?”
Everything clicks a split second before Clark moves. Before Kyle can even gasp, Clark’s hands grip him firmly under the arms. Then the garage is just… gone. The world is nothing more than a nonsensical blur – buildings, roads, trees, rushing past in an instant as the two men rocket through the sky. Wind roars in his ears. Terror and exhilaration clutch his gut.
He lets out a delighted whoop – though anyone else might have called it a shriek of terror. Maybe it’s a bit of both.
Suddenly, Kyle’s feet touch ground again, and he stumbles forward, arms flailing as he finds his balance. A string of curses leaves his mouth, some English, some Spanish, while his hand clutches his heart. It takes a moment to even process where they are – Metropolis, a block away from the stadium. They’d traveled two hundred miles in about twenty seconds.
When he finally manages to look back at Clark, he sees the man watching him, smirking. “Sorry, was that too slow?”
“Oh, you son of a bitch.” There’s no insult in the words at all – Kyle’s trying too hard not to laugh. “We should get our seats and grab a bite to eat. And since you damn near gave me a heart attack, you’re buying, Kent.”
That gets a chuckle. “Come on.”
Kyle’s heart rate calms down by the time they make it to the stadium. But he already can’t wait for the flight home.
Kyle’s hands are full when he reaches the Kents’ door, so instead of knocking, he jabs his foot against the wood a couple times. Normally, Clark can hear his car all the way from the road, but over the past few months, his reactions have noticeably slowed. It must be true after all – one day, Superman won’t be quite so super anymore. And it seems the hearing is the first thing to go.
After a few seconds, Clark opens the door. “Kyle, hey.”
Kyle adjusts the boxes in his hands. “Chrissy asked me to drop these off for Lois. Don’t have a clue what’s in ‘em. I just do what the lady tells me.”
“Wise choice.” Clark steps back to let him inside, beckoning him into Lois’ office. “You can leave them on her desk.”
The boxes land with a surprisingly heavy thud – probably full of documents, which always weigh about three times as much as it seems like they should. Kyle rubs his palms together, easing some of the lingering tension from his skin. The delivery gave him the excuse to come over – in fact, he suspects that’s why Chrissy had asked – but now he has to actually do the rest.
Clark leans in the doorway. “You okay?”
Of course. His ears might not be quite as sharp, but he’s still got those reporter’s observation skills.
“Yeah! Yeah. Just, uh…” Kyle shoves his hands into his pockets. “Chrissy and I had a talk last night. And, uh… wedding’s back on. We’re thinking April.”
Clark blinks. Then his entire face lights up, his mouth dropping open in that dork-ass way that makes him look sorta like a muppet. “Kyle! That’s amazing!”
“It is, yeah.”
“Do you want to use the barn again? We don’t mind.”
“We’re definitely considering it. I’ll let you know. But, uh… there’s something else.”
Clark’s eyebrows raise expectantly. Kyle takes a breath.
“Last time around, everything was sorta last minute, and the timing was weird, and I didn’t really have anyone else to go to. But…” He clears his throat. “This time, I’ve been thinking, and… I’d like to ask you again for real.” With a tentative step closer, he asks, “You still willing to be my best man?”
A slow, genuine smile spreads across Clark’s face. “Kyle, I’d be honored.”
Kyle grins and stretches out his hand. Clark grasps his arm, still beaming. The thing is, Kyle’s gotten to know him well enough by now to realize that the man is the tiniest bit of a shit when he wants to be. And he seems to enjoy taking the piss out of Kyle specifically. “Just, uh… try not to make the speech too embarrassing, you know?”
“I make no promises.”
Well. That’s what he’d signed up for. Kyle gives him a friendly clap on the shoulder as he heads for the door. “I gotta get home. I’ll text you, though.”
Clark nods, and Kyle leaves, chuckling to himself as he starts up the car.
The Kents really do know how to spruce up this barn. They’ve given the entire thing a floral, spring-themed makeover, with flowers and leaves draped over practically every surface. It’s stunning – but not nearly as stunning as Chrissy in her dress.
Much like Kyle’s first wedding, most of the day is a blur. But soon enough, he and Chrissy are side by side at the front of the room, watching as Clark awkwardly adjusts his tie and clears his throat. Somehow, the idea of Superman getting stage fright doesn’t quite compute – just one of the many enigmas that make up Clark Kent.
But his voice ultimately comes out even, relaxed. “If someone went back in time and told my fifteen-year-old self that one day, I would be the best man at Kyle’s Cushing’s wedding… I probably would have said you were nuts.”
That gets a couple chuckles from the crowd. People who’d known them back then remember the legendary Kent/Cushing feud. “It’s no secret that Kyle and I didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye,” Clark continues. “I may have even wound up duct-taped to a tractor once.”
Kyle winces. But the soft laughter continues. That’s all in the past now.
“But when I moved back to Smallville five years ago… I started to see a different side of him. The courageous fireman. The community leader. The devoted father. And… he makes really good ribs.”
Someone in the back of the room whoops slightly in approval, and several people grin. But Kyle can’t help but notice that there’s no mention of Lana. It’s probably for the best – sometimes, Kyle has to wonder if, deep down, Clark still hasn’t forgiven him for breaking her heart.
Then again, Clark had broken her heart once, too. Maybe it’s time to leave all of that behind them.
“Eventually… Kyle found out… well, you know.” The Superman-shaped elephant in the room. “It wasn’t something I’d ever planned. But now… I’m grateful that it happened, and I can’t imagine things any other way. And as he started to see the real me, I started to see the real him. When my family faced the most difficult times of our lives… Kyle was there. Supporting us, without question, the way he has for so many people in this town. That’s when I realized that Kyle Cushing isn’t a perfect man – but he is a good one. And he’s someone I’m privileged to consider a friend.”
Damn it. Kyle is actually going to blush. Chrissy squeezes his hand under the table.
“Just like I would never have pictured myself here… I would never have pictured Kyle and Chrissy together. But now that I see them, I know it was meant to be. They bring out the best in each other. And I know she’s gonna set him straight.”
A few people laugh again. Finally, Clark turns towards the couple, smiling. “I wish you nothing but happiness.” He holds up his glass. “To Kyle and Chrissy.”
“Kyle and Chrissy,” the room echoes, before scattered applause rings through the barn.
Clark actually gives Kyle a wink as he takes his seat again. “Not too embarrassing?” he whispers.
“Nah,” Kyle replies. “Not so much.”
Having a home to host in again feels nice. And friendship with the Kents has become so simple. Kyle grills up some burgers for their guests while Lois helps Chrissy mix together some sort of salad and Clark lets toddler Diego drag him all around the yard by a finger.
It’s dark when Kyle finally walks them out, though he stops Clark with a gentle hand on his arm while Lois goes to start the car. “Real quick, Kent. I think I got something clogged in the gutter up there. Would you mind flying up and taking a look?”
Clark’s gaze follows his point up to the roof. But instead of lifting off the ground, he gives Kyle an apologetic look. “I, uh… I… can’t.”
Kyle blinks. “What do you mean, you can’t?”
Clark won’t meet his eyes. “Over the past few months… it’s been taking a lot more effort to stay airborne. And a few days ago… I realized I couldn’t fly at all.”
Oh. Superman’s been all but retired from the hero business for a while now, letting the twins handle that while he focuses more on the outreach. But Kyle had assumed it was by choice. Not because he physically couldn’t anymore.
“I’m sorry, Clark, that’s…” It defies description. There’s not exactly a hallmark card for sorry you can’t fly anymore. He just remembers the thrill of rocketing through the sky, the rest of the world just a distant blur. To have that taken away…
Clark shrugs a little. “It’s okay. I knew it would happen eventually.”
“Still… it stinks. I’ll get up there with a ladder tomorrow. Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah.” Smiling, Clark gently claps Kyle’s shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”
“Sure.”
Kyle watches as the Kents’ headlights disappear down the road, the strangest sense of loss hanging in his chest.
It’s just after sunset when Kyle pulls up to the Kent farm. Jonathan and Jordan are off on superhero duty, Chrissy’s busy at the Gazette, Lana and John Henry have plans… which makes tonight Kyle’s turn. No one’s formally set up a schedule or anything, but it’s an unspoken understanding since Lois’ passing. Clark shouldn’t have to be in that old house all alone.
When Clark opens the door, his cheeks are puffy and red. “Kyle?”
“Hey.” Kyle shifts the grocery bags in his arms. “Listen, I got all the ingredients for mi abuelito’s famous enchiladas, and nobody at home to eat ‘em. They’re spicy enough to make even Superman’s nose run.” After a moment, he adds, more quietly, “If you want.”
Clark watches him for a few seconds, then manages a small smile. “Come on in.”
Kyle cooks the chicken while Clark dices the vegetables. Then he arranges everything into the baking sheet and starts it in the oven. They don’t say much of anything. They don’t have to. Clark nods slowly as he finally takes his first bite, giving an enthusiastic thumbs up – it does, in fact, make his nose run.
When Kyle finally gets ready to leave a few hours later, Clark briefly catches his arm. Kyle raises his eyebrows. But all Clark says is, “Thanks.”
Kyle briefly clasps his shoulder. “Anytime, man.”
It’s surprising how little Smallville has changed over the years… almost. Part of Kyle knows that some things will always stay the same. Especially now that Smallville is famous for being Superman’s hometown – there’s a push to keep it preserved, just the way Clark Kent has always known it. Hell, it’ll probably get turned into a museum in another few decades. What a strange thought.
Kyle crouches down as Clark approaches, giving Krypto plenty of attention. The golden retriever loves every second of it, poking his head forward to enthusiastically lick Kyle’s face. Yep. Clark’s got himself a good slobber monster here.
He winces as he stands again, feeling the protesting creak in his bones. “Damn. I got these senior citizen’s knees.”
Clark laughs. “I know exactly what you mean.” And he really does. Despite them only being a few months apart in age, Clark looks almost a decade older – grayer hair, thicker wrinkles, saggier skin. But he’s still damn handsome. Like there’s some rule of the universe that Superman has to age with grace.
They chat as they walk, about anything. Sports. Food. Kids. At some point, conversation with Clark had become blissfully easy.
As they turn the corner off of Main Street, Clark suddenly slows, a hand rising up to his chest.
Kyle stops with him. “You okay, buddy?”
But Clark doesn’t answer. He just drops to his knees. Then all the way to the ground, his face screwed up in pain.
“Clark!?”
The dog hovers over him, snuffling curiously. Kyle quickly shoos him away to get a look for himself. Though he already knows what the issue is. They’ve all known it’s only a matter of time before Clark’s donated heart gives out on him.
But it’s not gonna be today. Not if Kyle has anything to say about it.
“Somebody call 911!” Across the street, someone pulls out a phone, but Kyle doesn’t pay them any attention. All of his focus is on Clark – moving his trembling hands out of the way, placing his palms right over his chest, and pressing down hard, rhythmically. “You’re gonna be alright. Just stay with me.”
Clark’s head rolls to one side. He’s unconscious. Kyle swears and keeps going, leaning his weight into his friend’s chest. Again. Again. Again. “Stay with me, pal. Come on. Stay with me, Clark.”
He doesn’t slow or stop until a paramedic pulls him away.
“Hey, Mr. Cushing.”
Kyle manages a little smile as Jordan lets him into the house. “How many times I have to tell you to call me Kyle?”
“A hundred more, at least.”
They shake hands. Jordan’s grip is as firm as his dad’s used to be.
“How’s your pop doing?”
Jordan shrugs a little. “Okay, I guess. The doctor said…” He sighs. “Actually, maybe he should tell you himself. He’s awake if you want to talk to him.”
With that, Jordan gestures over to what used to be Lois’ office. Kyle nods and steps inside.
He’d expected Clark to look a lot worse. Instead, he just seems tired, propped up in bed with about half a dozen pillows and one of Martha’s old quilts. He turns his head as Kyle enters. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Kyle moves closer, resting a hand on Clark’s arm. “Just thought I’d check up on you. How you feeling?”
Clark gives him a wry little smile. “Could be worse. But… I’m still here. Thanks to you.”
Kyle quickly waves away the gratitude. “I think Krypto helped more than I did.”
That earns him an actual chuckle – though it quickly turns into a wheeze, then a coughing fit. Alarmed, Kyle grabs a glass of water from the table and holds it out for him, keeping a light touch against Clark’s hands as he sips.
“Thanks,” Clark finally whispers, settling back against the headboard.
The resignation in his expression seizes Kyle’s chest. He carefully sets the water aside and pulls a nearby chair closer to the bed, sitting down. There’s no need to ask – Clark already knows what’s on his mind. Though it takes him a minute to finally speak.
“My, um… my doctor says… I don’t have much time left. My heart is just too weak. There's nothing he can do.”
Kyle swallows. “How long?”
“Could be a few weeks. Or… a few days.”
Hell. Kyle opens his mouth, trying to find the right thing to say…
Clark lets him off the hook after a few seconds. “It’s okay. I… I think I’m ready.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” There’s actually a faint smile playing on Clark’s lips. “I don’t know. Somehow… it all feels like it’s gonna be alright.”
It’s moments like this where Kyle can still see the hero in there. Superman. Hopeful even at the end.
He drops his head, breathing slow, trying to keep himself collected. “You, uh… is there anything you want done? For, you know… arrangements?”
“The boys have it handled. But, um… someone’s gonna have to take care of Krypto. Do you think…?”
Immediately, Kyle nods. “Of course. Of course I will.”
“Thanks.”
Kyle breathes slowly, unable to look at Clark’s face. His voice comes out raspy and heavy. “Listen, Clark, I… I just wanted to say… I…”
But the words still won’t come.
Slowly, Clark holds out a fist. With a rueful smile, Kyle gives it a gentle bump with his own, finally meeting Clark’s eyes. There’s definitely sorrow there, and some fear. But behind all of it is a simple, quiet peace.
“I know.”
The cemetery has been something of a circus over the past two weeks. Countless tourists have paraded through, curious to see the final resting place of the Man of Steel. The DOD has provided security free of charge – a final courtesy towards Earth’s greatest hero.
But eventually, it starts to die down. So on a quiet evening, Kyle drives over to visit for himself.
He’s right beside Lois, of course, and near to both of his parents. It’s a plain, unassuming grave – he’d insisted on it. There will be plenty of memorials to immortalize Superman, the hero, the myth. This one is simply to remember the man.
Flowers lie all around the site, carefully arranged so as not to cover the text underneath. Clark Joseph Kent. 1980-2055. Beloved father, husband, son. And at the very bottom, a tiny engraving of his crest.
Kyle sinks to his knees in front of the headstone while Krypto lays down beside him. The first time he’d experienced Superman’s death, it had weighed on his entire body. This time, it simply settles into his heart, like a missing piece. Not a world without a hero, but a man without his friend.
Because that’s who Clark was in the end. A friend.
Slowly, Kyle stretches out his hand, resting his fist against the cold stone.
“See ya, pal."
After a few minutes, Kyle takes hold of Krypto’s leash and walks away.