Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Clark left for Rimbor, all Conner could feel was this impending sense of dread. Clark was gone, but the world still needed a Superman. Godfrey had rallied the public into an angry stupor, demanding the Man of Steel say something during an upcoming conference. But Clark was gone. There was only him. All eyes were on him as he pulled on the cape; the sense of dread became overwhelming.

There was a huge difference between being a public hero and being part of an undercover team. Unfortunately, nobody had really explained this to Conner until it was far too late. As Miss Martian levitated him above the crowd, all he could think about was how angry they sounded. Cries of “you should be doing more!” and “what are you gonna do about this?” crammed into every corner of his brain. What made it worse was that he had no answer. He wasn’t his older brother. He wasn’t Kal-El. Kal was a much better public speaker. Confident, calm, completely in check with his emotions. Conner was rash, prone to emotional outbursts. He didn’t have an answer.

“I hate this stupid suit”, Conner grumbled, pulling a little at the fabric. It was clinging to his skin. He hated it. It felt like a violation of something so important. It wasn’t him. M’gann glanced at him as he climbed onto the supercycle, Sphere chirping in sympathy. “You’ll only have to do this a few times a week at most. I’m sure the League will be back soon.”

“Soon” meant nothing, not when weeks turned into months. And the angry outbursts from the public got worse. It wasn’t just Superman‘s integrity that was being questioned, almost every public hero was thrust onto a spotlight, being dissected by a man who had no right to question anyones probity. And now Conner was being pushed on stage, forced to say something inspiring, forced to try and save a reputation that had been questioned since its birth. And he had nothing. The League didn’t blame him for not being Kal, nor did the Team. But he still felt like a failure because this was what he was meant to do and he just couldn’t do it.

Finally, the trial was about to reach a verdict. Conner and M’gann blasted through large doors just in time, just before they were going to be sent to their deaths. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was fate, but everything turned out alright. The Leaguers could finally come home. They could finally see what their protégés had done to their names while they were gone. Conner dreaded the inevitable fury.

But there wasn’t any anger, certainly not fury. Batman enveloped Dick into a warm hug when he thought nobody was looking and Conner could hear him say “I am so proud of you.” His heart clenched a little in a funny way, a pang of maybe jealousy or longing. He wasn’t really sure. But it left a bad taste in his mouth. It made him nervous for what Clark was gonna say. J’onn and M’gann were having a telepathic conversation, and from what he could gather from their facial expressions, it was a cacophony of affectionate, grateful praise. The pang struck deeper.

The first thing that Clark did was envelop him in a big, warm hug that knocked the air out of his lungs. His feet lifted from the ground just a little because of Clark’s excited hovering. Not a lot of people knew that Clark hovered and vibrated slightly when he was overly excited or happy. Conner was one of the few people he did it around. Now, after he found out about the irreparable damage Conner had done to the S, he might not ever speak to him again. But he was in for another dizzying loop because Clark whispered at a frequency only he could hear “I am so, so proud of you squirt.” His soft lips graced the center of Conner’s forehead, a wide smile on his face, illuminating the odd blue of his eyes. Conner’s eyes began to water and without thinking he buried himself into Clark’s broad chest.

The smile immediately fell; in its place stood concern and perhaps a little bit of fear. Conner didn’t even realize that he was crying until Clark whispered “Hey kiddo, what’s wrong, what’s with the crying?” Conner couldn’t get his brain to form words. What was wrong with him? He could feel Clark’s steady, slightly off heartbeat that was so much like his own. He could feel his chest rise and fall slowly, a hypnotic rhythm that was lulling him to slip. His brain felt foggy, disoriented. He could feel himself dropping and he was desperately trying to push himself back up. ‘Can’t do that now, not here, not in front of him. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.’

Now Batman and Nightwing were looking over at them. Nobody else had noticed yet. Clark gently picked the boy up like you would carry an infant. He then quickly sped away from the mountain, running at super speed towards the only people in the world that had made soothing a little Kryptonian an art.

The air was crisp and clear, free of city pollutants and the smell that always seem to appear when multiple people mingled together. It was something you needed super-senses to detect. One of the many things he and Conner shared.

Martha’s brow furrowed at the light tapping at the front door. They weren’t expecting any visitors. She found a slightly frazzled-looking Clark holding a very upset Little. She smiled warmly at the two and guided them inside, closing the door softly behind her.

“What brought this on?”, she asked. Her eyes were centered on Conner who hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t even looked up at anyone yet. His face was still buried in her oldest’s chest.

“I… I don’t know. We just got back from Rimbor and he was outside waiting for me. He just… broke down; I don’t know what happened!” Clark’s tone had shifted to something more panicked. Martha laid a hand on his thigh and he immediately began to relax. Conner could sense it too because the boy began to come out from under Clark, poking his head out just a little. Eyes widening in recognition, he immediately tried to get out of Clark’s iron grip, intending to run straight for the door. He couldn’t be here! Neither of them knew! A whine escaped his lips as Clark’s grip on him tightened. “Where are you trying to go?”, the older man asked gently, still keeping his grip on Conner.

Conner refused to answer, choosing instead to pull himself out of Clark’s arms and run straight for the door. Clark gave their mother a sheepish look, a slightly embarrassed sounding “we’ll be right back” barely slipping past his lips before he sped out the door just in time to stop Conner from leaping into the sky. “Hey hey hey kiddo calm down. You’re safe right here. You don’t need to leave”, Clark said. Conner only half heard him, eyes looking up longingly at the freedom that was just a jump away. Clark had a hand on his arm, keeping him grounded. He didn’t want to be standing here! “Let go”, he growled out. But even to him it sounded off, more like a child trying to imitate an adult. He needed to get out of here now before they found out.

“Let me go! I can’t be here!”, he shouted. Clark still didn’t move. “Why can’t you be here?”, he asked gently. The gentle, soothing tenor and the warm, protective hand on his shoulder was too much. He could feel himself slipping again and he began to grow desperate. “Just… please let me go”, he whispered. He could feel tears welling in his eyes. “Please Kal.”

Instead, Clark wrapped two large arms around his smaller frame and pulled him close to his chest. He rubbed a hand down his back and softly whispered into his ear, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re here, and you’re safe, and you’re with your family that loves you so much, little brother. It’s ok if you can’t be big all the time. Trust me, we get it.”

Conner froze as realization finally dawned on him. He knew and he didn’t say anything! “How did you…?”, he trailed off, finally meeting Clark’s eyes. The man just laughed, pulling him in closer. “Oh kiddo, you are not nearly as good at hiding your headspace as you think you are.”

And now Conner felt utter embarrassment because he had gone his entire 3 years of life thinking he had his headspace under control. Of course Clark would be the one to completely unravel that. It was a poetic justice. Conner groaned, eyebrows furrowed in that way that always showed he was exasperated with Clark. He felt Clark’s lips touch his forehead again. It was his way of saying ‘I know you’re tired of me. But I still love you anyway.’

“When did you figure it out?”

Clark looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, “I guess it was right after the whole ‘being mind controlled to attack the Watchtower’ thing. Me and Bruce were talking and-”

“Talking about me?”, Conner asked with suspicion. The sheepish look Clark gave him was all the confirmation he needed to know. “Kal!”

“You were one of the topics we discussed. Anyway, we were talking and Bruce said he noticed some… infantile behavior. We went through the few files Dick managed to grab from Cadmus, but none of them said anything about your classification or if you could even be classified. So we just assumed it was because your biological age and your chronological age were in conflict.”

They both tilted their heads to the side as Jonathan walked into the house, one of the barn cats trailing behind him.

“So when did you figure out it wasn’t my complicated aging thing?”

“Just now, back at the house.”

Conner did a funny little twitch. “… What?”

“Just now”, Clark replied. The wide smile on his face and the mischievous glint in his eye made Conner nervous. He ruffled his hair affectionately and tweaked his ear. “You don’t give much away little brother. But when you do slip up, it is definitely noticeable.” Conner’s face reddened. This was punishment for something, he was sure of it. Poetic justice came to mind again. Clark had taken off his glasses and was wiping them with the corner of his shirt. It was so nonchalant. He was so nonchalant and it didn’t make any sense. “So… you don’t care?”, he finally managed to stutter out. His voice was soft and weak, dreading the answer. He was dreading the potential “yes I do”, what that would mean.

“That you’re a Little? No buddy, and I’m sure Ma and Pa won’t either. Especially Ma, she loves Littles.”

Well… that actually made perfect sense. Ma loved babies. She loved babies so much that she found one in a rocket ship just lying in her field and decided to take him home. But that didn’t mean he was ready to tell her. Because Clark wasn’t one and he was always being compared to Clark and he just… His eyes were getting that stingy feeling again and he rubbed them hard. He was tired of crying. He felt Clark’s hand rest on his shoulder. “Conner?”, he murmured gently. “I’m not ready… I’m not ready to tell anyone yet.”

“I figured as much and that’s ok. I still haven’t told anyone yet.”

And that absolutely grabbed his attention. “You…?”, he trailed off. The way Clark had just confessed that didn’t make any sense. Clark just shrugged his shoulders. There was a playful smile on his face, that smile that always made Conner feel so loved because Clark wasn’t just tolerating him, he was comfortable with him.

“Yeah, Ma and Pa know of course. But… I don’t know; I guess I’m not ready to tell anyone yet and Ma and Pa haven’t pushed me to. I’m sure they won’t push you either.”

An overwhelming sense of relief flooded Conner’s body because Clark understood and he wasn’t gonna push. Ma and Pa would understand and they weren’t gonna push either. Nobody was telling him what to do or what to feel. They were going to give him the space and time to figure it out in his own way. God he felt like crying again.

“You ok?”, Clark asked softly. The hand hadn’t left his shoulder. He nodded. He was ok. He was safe and he was ok and Clark didn’t hate him… yet. “There’s something else though”, he whispered. Clark just waited patiently. “Umm… while you were gone… I had to… pretend to be you and…” He just couldn’t bring himself to say it. “And you…?”, Clark prompted. He could do this. He could do this. “I… I don’t think it went well.”

He glanced up at Clark. The man wasn’t angry, wasn’t anything but concerned. And it wasn’t for his reputation or his image, it was for him. “Did something happen?”, Clark asked. “Are you hurt?” Conner shook his head. He wasn’t hurt… not physically at least. “No it’s just… I… I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do your job. I know I’m supposed to but I just… I’m not you.”

“Oh Kon, it is not your job to handle all of my responsibilities. And you didn’t ruin my image or any of that. It didn’t matter what you said or did, Godfrey would have spun it against you anyway. What matters is that you tried to help people even when they weren’t being very nice to you. You didn’t hold it against them. That’s the only thing that matters. You did good kiddo and I’m so proud of you.”

Relief, an immense surge of relief flooded his entire body. Clark wasn’t mad. His reputation wasn’t ruined. He didn’t fail. “So… so you’re not mad?”, he asked softly, meeting Clark’s gaze. The man really didn’t seem to be upset with him. “No squirt, I’m not mad.”

And that did it. The tears spilled over his cheeks and he buried himself into Clark’s chest again. And Clark didn’t push him away or freeze. He wrapped his arms around him and kissed the top of his head. Everything was gonna be ok. Everything was gonna be fine.