Archive of Our Own ^beta

Billy stared at the familiar symbol on the man’s chest, obscured slightly by his crisp white button up shirt, but unmistakable even in the dim light of his apartment.

Billy had been almost resigned to his fate when he’d walked into his apartment, the squeaky hinges of the door grating on his ears, sure that the man was from Social Services coming to drag him back into the system. He’d looked the part—large clunky glasses, a cheap but professional looking suit, a gently disapproving look on his face as he scanned the room.

The man—he said his name was Clark—seemed to fill the whole room with his large frame, even as he tried to hunch over himself. And then a transformation had occurred, almost as striking as Billy’s own despite its subtlety, turning the awkward, mild mannered man into Superman. His straightened posture and confident expression made him look regal, otherworldly, heroic.

In comparison Billy feel so, so small.

Clark dropped his hands to his sides, fiddling with his glasses as if he were nervous about Billy’s reaction. It was hard to believe that Superman could ever be nervous, he never had reason to be, especially not over some homeless street rat’s opinion of his secret identity.

But Billy couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He just gaped at him, his eyes sliding from Clark’s face back down to the symbol on his chest, the one that stood for hope, still trying to get his mind to accept what his eyes were seeing.

He knew he should feel honored to learn one of the best kept secrets in the world, to learn more about the hero he had looked up to and fought side by side with, to be allowed to see this oddly vulnerable side to the Man of Steel. At the very least he should be happy that he had evened the playing field so that they both knew each other’s secret identities.

And he did feel those things—at least distantly. Mostly he just felt anxious, worried about what this all would mean for him, for his future.

Because what happened now?

He had been wondering that ever since he had transformed on that mountain, scrubbing away his tears as he desperately tried to explain himself. He didn’t want to be seen as a bad guy, a loose cannon, a twisted, angry, violent version of himself; he didn’t want Superman to see him as a monster in the making.

His hero’s face had grown hard and cold, an all too familiar rage simmering under the surface as he demanded to know who had done this to him.

Billy had flinched away from him. He hadn’t understood what he wanted at first, too lost in his own pain, his own grief, to make sense of that anger. He’d stood there, tense and cold, his tears and snot freezing against his skin, stuttering out the unbelievable story of a Wizard and a magic subway car and gods he’d only heard about in books.

Then Superman had been granted an audience with Shazam and Billy had been left to settle back into his poor excuse of a life, the gaping hole of his closest friend’s absence eating away at him even more than the guilt at how many people he had hurt in his anger.

As the days passed by, he had naively hoped that that would be the end of it. That Superman would get the answers he wanted, keep an eye on Captain Marvel for any more reckless, childish behavior, and move on with his life, leaving Billy to his own devices just as every other adult in his life had.

But he should have known. He was Superman, he wasn’t just going to let a kid run around with godlike powers—especially after he’d proven that he couldn’t be trusted to keep himself in check when things got tough.

It still didn't prepare Billy for this, for him to reveal his real name, the one he used in his real life. It didn't prepare him for the sheer amount of trust Superman was putting in him, especially when he hadn't really done anything to earn it.

Billy forced himself to close his mouth before one of the flies buzzing around his room could fly in, carefully averting his gaze from Superman—from Clark’s face. His eyes landed on his dirty white socks and he became painfully aware of the hole that one of the toes on his left foot was poking through.

The air in the room was thick with tension, with expectation, squeezing out the air until it became hard to breathe, let alone speak. What was he supposed to say? What did Clark want from Billy? An explanation? An apology? A promise to keep his secret? What was going to happen now?

“Billy?” Clark’s voice, soft and gentle, cut through the rising panic in Billy’s chest, forcing him to look back up at him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, his voice squeaking oddly in his rush to reassure him. “This is just…”

“A lot to take in?” Clark suggested, some of the worry leaving his face.

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay if you’re a bit overwhelmed, most people would be.”

“I’m not most people.”

“No, I suppose you’re not,” Clark sighed softly, giving Billy an appraising look as he did so. Billy wondered what it was that he saw. A scared, helpless kid? Or maybe, just maybe, a little bit of Captain Marvel was peeking through Billy’s eyes. “I spoke to the Wizard.”

“You did?” Billy asked. He’d known that was Superman’s goal, but he hadn’t been sure Shazam would actually speak to him. He didn’t even speak to Billy all that often. He hadn’t spoken with him since before Scott…“What did you guys talk about?”

“You.”

“Oh,” Billy supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by that. He was the only thing they had in common, the only reason they’d ever met. “Was he…was he mad at me?”

“Oh Billy,” Clark said, his face growing sad. He reached out a hand as if to place it on Billy’s shoulder or pull him into a hug, but he pulled back when he saw Billy flinch slightly at the gesture. “He wasn’t mad at you. I got the impression that he could never truly be angry with you. He was just…” Clark trailed off with another sigh, looking tired as he clasped his hands together in front of him. “He’s worried about you. He doesn’t want you to be alone. And neither do I. That was the one thing we could both agree on.”

A familiar wave of defensiveness rose up in Billy’s chest.

“I can take care of myself,” he said. “Even if I can’t take care of anyone else, I know I can do that much.”

The image of Scott’s wide unblinking eyes came unbidden to his mind. The feel of his suddenly much smaller body cradled against his chest, the warmth of his blood running through his fingers…

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean that you have to,” Clark said softly, voice barely above a whisper, as if knowing what awful things were running through Billy’s head. “Even I need someone to lean on sometimes.”

“You do?” Billy asked, glancing skeptically at him.

“Yeah,” he said. “My friends, my family.”

Billy cocked his head to the side slightly, thankful for the distraction from his thoughts. He didn’t want to cry in front of Superman again. “I thought you were the only Kryptonian left?”

“I am, at least as far I know anyway,” he said with a slight shrug. There was just a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly as it arrived. “But I have a human family too.” An odd look crossed Clark’s face, fond and nervous. “I can introduce you to them if you’d like. My Ma makes some really amazing peach cobbler.”

Billy was surprised to hear a vaguely familiar accent slip into some of his words, like just the thought of home had him drawing out certain sounds.

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You won’t be. Ma and Pa are always telling me I should bring my friends by the farm.”

“The farm?”

Clark chuckled at Billy’s no doubt incredulous expression. But really, in what world did Superman live on a farm? Maybe Billy was just a city boy at heart, but he’d never even seen a farm in real life. His imagination was already running wild, filling in the blanks as he tried to imagine Clark feeding chickens and milking cows.

He was so distracted by those thoughts that he almost missed what had come before them.

Friend.

Were he and Clark friends? Or maybe it was better to ask if Superman and Captain Marvel were friends? Though there shouldn’t have been a difference, not really. They were still the same people, whether they were wearing their uniforms or not.

But Billy was starting to realize that his friends, Captain Marvel’s friends, were in danger just by being near him. He’d already lost Scott, who else would get caught in the crossfire of his battles against supervillains? Who else would he lose because he just wasn’t good enough?

But Clark was Superman. If anyone could handle the dangers of being his friend, it was him. And Billy really, really needed a friend at the moment.

“If you think they wouldn’t mind…” he trailed off, trying to keep that desperately hopeful tone out of his voice. He was pretty sure he didn't quite manage it.

“They are going to be thrilled to meet you,” Clark said, once again eyeing the dirty little room and the few meager belongings Billy had dragged up there. “And a change of scenery might do you some good. If you power up, we can fly there for lunch.”

Billy bit his lip. He could feel the slight twist of hunger in his gut that he had been ignoring for a couple days now. Lunch sounded amazing. He wasn’t sure what peach cobbler was, but he wouldn’t mind giving it a try.

“Okay,” he said, nodding his head in an effort to feel some certainty in his decision.

Clark smiled, wider and warmer than before. He offered a hand to Billy, effortlessly pulling him to his feet so they could get going.

A few minutes later, Captain Marvel and Superman touched down on a generally unremarkable bit of land somewhere in the Midwest. Billy wasn’t entirely sure where they were though. Everything looked the same from above, just an endless patchwork of fields dotted with little towns and long stretches of highways.

Following Superman’s lead, he touched down in the front yard of a cozy looking farmhouse. It was older, clearly worn by age and use, but it was homey in a way Billy wasn’t used to. Fields stretched out behind them and a large barn stood just a few yards away, all connected by a thin lane of packed dirt that served as a path.

Before the two of them could make their way to the house, the screen door swung open to reveal an older woman, her graying hair tossed up in a messy bun. Her face lit up in delight as she took them in, not at all surprised to find two superheroes on her doorstep.

“Hey Ma,” Superman said, stepping forward to accept a hug from her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a friend.”

“I see that,” the woman said, her eyes sparkling as she glanced the Captain. She turned to look back at the house. “John!” she called out over her shoulder. “Come say hi to our guest!”

A few moments later a man, presumably John, ambled out of the house and sidled up to the group, casually wrapping an arm around his wife.

“Jonathan Kent,” he said, sticking out his hand for Billy to shake. “This here is my wife Martha.”

Billy took the proffered hand, shaking it in as strong a grip as he dared, careful not hurt him. “I’m Captain Marvel,” he said, ducking his head shyly. “But my friends call me Billy.”

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mrs. Kent said, nudging Superman lightly as she spoke. “Clark never brings people home, especially not people from his life as the Man of Steel.”

“Ma…” Superman all but whined, oddly embarrassed by the gentle chiding. “You know I can’t tell most people about this.”

“I know, I know,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ve always been the careful sort, which I suppose is something to be thankful for.”

“But it means this young man must be something special,” Mr. Kent cut in, throwing a wink in Billy’s direction. “So Captain, how about you tell us all about how you and Clark know each other over beer while Martha whips up some lunch?”

Billy felt his cheeks heat up at the offer, suddenly much less sure about whether he wanted to be there or not.

“Actually Pa," Superman cut in, looking almost as flustered as Billy. "the Captain isn’t…old enough to drink.”

“Oh? Guess I need to get my eyes checked, I coulda sworn you were about Clark’s age." He just shrugged, taking the information in stride. "But that’s alright, we got some lemonade in the fridge. The good stuff, not that watered down store bought crap. It’ll probably be better than the beer anyway.”

Clark glanced at Billy. “Maybe we should both…change out of our uniforms first?”

Billy bit his lip, more nervous than he expected to be. When he revealed his identity to Superman he was emotional, hurting, not really thinking straight. He didn’t have time to be worried about his reaction until later when there was nothing he could do about it. Doing it on purpose to people he barely knew felt wrong. He could feel Solomon's wisdom telling him not to do it, to fly as far away from this place as possible. But he pushed that thought aside and gave the group a strained smile.

“Okay,” he said quietly, taking a few steps backwards, away from the house and the nice older couple who were welcoming him into their home. He glanced at the sky briefly, hoping the transformation didn’t scare them too much. But he figured that people who were able to raise an alien baby with heat vision wouldn’t be too freaked out by a bit of magic lightning. “You might want to look away,” he warned them. “It’s kind of bright.”

He took a deep steadying breath, squeezing his eyes shut so he didn’t have to look at their expressions. “Shazam!”

Billy didn’t open his eyes until the smoke from his transformation had cleared and he heard the soft gasp as Mrs. Kent took in his much smaller, much younger form.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Mr. Kent muttered under his breath. “You definitely ain’t old enough for that beer.”

“Come on inside sweetheart,” Mrs. Kent smiled widely at him, gently guiding him up the steps of the porch and into the house. “This is clearly going to be a longer story than I thought. Which means I should rustle up some lunch for us first.”

Mrs. Kent fussed over Billy a bit more, taking in his thin frame and cheap clothes, no doubt coming to some painfully accurate conclusions about his current living situation. Once she got him settled into a chair, she placed a glass of lemonade and some cookies in front of him, insisting he eat something while she cooked, which Billy thought was a bit silly, but he was more than happy to do so.

Clark came into the room, once again clad in his civilian clothes and glasses. He fondly watched as Mrs. Kent puttered around the kitchen, snapping to attention when she told him to come help her.

No one asked Billy any questions until they were all seated around the somewhat cramped dining room table.

“So Billy,” Mr. Kent began as he made his own plate. “How old are you?”

“I’m ten,” Billy admitted. “Well ten and some months.”

“Oh I remember when Clark was ten,” Mrs. Kent cut in. “He hadn’t learned how to fly yet, but he could leap clear over the house if he wanted to.”

Billy smiled at the mental image that gave him. “Flying was probably the first of my powers I learned how to use.”

“Is that so?” Mr Kent asked. “Even before the—uh—lightning stuff?”

“Oh well I guess the transformation came first, since I don’t have powers when I’m…like this. All my powers are in my Captain Marvel body.”

“I see,” he nodded, nodding seriously as he took in that bit of information.

“Billy’s powers are magical,” Clark informed them, looking almost as nervous as Billy felt. “He got them from a Wizard.”

Billy glanced at the Kents, wondering if they would believe him. But the couple accepted the information immediately. He guessed they didn't think Clark would lie about something like that.

“I can’t say I know much about magic," Mr. Kent said. "but I would love to hear more about what you can do kiddo.”

Billy passed the rest of the afternoon chatting with the Kents about his powers and how he and Superman teamed up to stop the bad guys that had been terrorizing both Metropolis and Fawcett City.It was oddly comforting, almost exciting, to be allowed to recount those stories to people, even if he did carefully avoid the more painful topics. The Kents were a wonderful audience too, fully invested in what he was saying, asking questions, letting out gasps of surprise and whoops of excitement as he went.

When lunch was over he insisted on helping clean up,even though Mrs. Kent said he didn't have to. She told him he was sweet as a peach, gently pushing some hair out of Billy's face, though it was the least he could do when she’d made such delicious food.

He expected to head home after that, to the dusty, grimy little apartment he called his own, pleasantly full and ready for a new day. But Clark insisted he have a look around the farm and meet a few of the animals they kept, an offer Billy knew he couldn't pass up.

And then as they made their way back to the house, Mrs. Kent unearthed a few photo albums of Clark when he was younger that she thought Billy would enjoy looking at.

And then Mr. Kent put on a baseball game, happily explaining the rules and the lingo to Billy as they watched.

By then it was getting late and Mrs. Kent insisted he stay for dinner despite the fact that he wasn’t all that hungry after the big lunch they’d had. But he found it hard to leave knowing that nobody was waiting him back in Fawcett City.

After dinner, Billy settled in next to Clark as they turned on a movie, though Billy was too tired to really pay attention. Everything was warm and comfortable, the soft hum of voices floating around him lulling him into a cocoon of safety. Soon his eyes drifted closed, his breaths slowing down to match the steady rise and fall of Clark’s own and before he realized it, he fell asleep.

It would be the first time since he lost his best friend that he slept soundly without nightmarish visions of what had happened, the first night he’d felt truly safe in a long, long time.

Billy didn’t know it at the time, but he would wake up with a handmade quilt wrapped around his shoulders, the smell of scrambled eggs and bacon wafting through the air. There would be a fresh set of clothes laid out next to him, a shirt and some old jeans of Clark’s that the Kents had never gotten rid of.

It would be something he’d grow familiar with as Clark brought him to the farm at every opportunity. Odd as it was, this place would start to feel a lot like home. So would Clark’s apartment in Metropolis as his visits grew more and more frequent until he only left to be Captain Marvel, coming back home to Clark's spare bedroom that quickly became Billy's room.

All the dominoes would start to fall into place until their lives were so intertwined, Billy could hardly imagine a time he didn’t have Clark by his side, guiding him, caring for him.

Billy didn’t know it yet, sleeping peacefully on that couch in Smallville Kansas, but he had just become part of the Kent family. He had just come home.