Chapter Text
Chapter One
The smell of hay and engine oil clung to Claire Kent’s shirt as she leaned over the rusty hood of her father’s old red tractor. The machine was on its last legs, and no matter how many times she had tried to convince her father to let it go, Jonathan had insisted it had to be saved — “it’s been in the family for generations.” The Kents didn’t waste money on things they could fix themselves — that was one of the first lessons Martha and Jonathan had drilled into her after they had taken her in. Work hard. Earn what you have. Rely on each other.
So when the low, polished growl of a Porsche engine cut across the quiet morning air, Claire’s stomach sank. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
Lex Luthor, she thought bitterly, brushing dirt from her hands. Clark Kent’s new friend. It had started a few weeks ago, after the accident at the bridge — the one everyone in Smallville still whispered about. Clark had pulled Lex from the twisted wreck of his Porsche like it had been nothing, and somehow the billionaire’s son had decided the two of them were destined to be friends.
To Clark, it was simple, but to Claire, the whole thing had felt wrong. Lex Luthor didn’t come to Smallville to make friends. Men like him didn’t do anything without expecting something in return. The car door clicked, and Claire barely had time to untangle herself from the engine bay before Lex Luthor stepped out, his impossible calm plastered across his face. Expensive leather shoes scuffed against the gravel.
“Morning, Claire,” he said smoothly, hands in his pockets, like he owned the whole farm. “Is Clark around?”
Claire’s jaw tightened as she wiped her greasy hands on her jeans. “He’s up at the house.” Lex nodded once.
“Thanks. I just thought I’d check on him,” he said, his voice calm, almost casual. Claire wiped her hands on an old rag, keeping her gaze on the tractor. “He’s probably upstairs, doing whatever it is he does.” “I see,” Lex said, taking a slow step closer, studying her quietly.
“You’re the one keeping things running down here, then?” Claire chuckled lowly, brushing her sleeve. “I suppose.”
Lex considered her for a moment, then turned and walked up toward the house. Claire went back to adjusting a stubborn bolt, muttering under her breath, Didn’t even offer to help. Typical.
A few days later, Claire sat at the edge of her bed, a stack of college brochures spread across the floor. Senior year was winding down, and the excitement of graduation was tangled with the pressure of making the right choice. She had options — plenty of them — and a good mind that could take her anywhere, but she wanted more than just prestige. Law school had been her goal for years, and she wasn’t about to settle for anything less than a program that would challenge her and let her make a difference.
Her room smelled faintly of hay and laundry detergent, a small reminder of home, of the farm she loved but sometimes wished she could leave behind. Her thoughts drifted briefly to her family and to Clark — where would he be if she were gone? Then her mind flicked to Lex and his sudden new friendship with Clark. The thought made her uneasy. Claire pushed the brochures aside and opened her laptop, fingers flying over the keys as she researched law programs. Each school came with a list of prerequisites, and scholarships, and she meticulously made notes for each one. She didn’t just want to go to college; she wanted to go somewhere that would push her, somewhere she could make a real difference someday.
Her thoughts drifted to Martha, who had always been her quiet anchor in the whirlwind of decisions. She remembered her mother’s gentle advice: “Follow your heart, Claire, but don’t be afraid to work for what you want.” Martha had believed in her from the moment she had come into their lives, and that belief pushed Claire to aim higher than she sometimes thought she could. The sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand made her glance up. It was a message from Chloe, reminding her about the study group later in the afternoon. Claire smiled faintly. Schoolwork, friends, plans for the future — that was the life she understood and controlled. Lex, with his polished charm and unpredictable presence, didn’t fit into any of that. Still, she couldn’t completely shake the thought of him. Clark’s new friend, the one who had appeared out of nowhere, now seemed woven into the edges of her life.
Claire sighed and closed her laptop, leaving it open on the edge of her desk, and pushed back from the bed. She paused for a moment, glancing at the stack of brochures, then shook her head and headed down the stairs. The wooden steps creaked softly beneath her feet, a familiar sound that reminded her of home. In the kitchen, the smell of fresh muffins mingled with the lingering scent of hay from earlier chores. Martha looked up from the counter and smiled warmly as Claire entered. “There you are,” she said. “I thought you might want a little snack before heading out.” Claire nodded, her mind still half on colleges and half on the farm. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll grab one quick.” She picked a muffin from the tray and leaned against the counter, letting herself enjoy the quiet of the morning for a moment.
The sun was dipping low over Smallville as Claire slipped into her jacket and headed for the truck. Evening air carried the faint scent of cut grass and the distant hum of traffic, a reminder that the day wasn’t over yet. She climbed in, started the engine, and drove through the quiet streets toward the centre of town.
Her destination was the Torch, the Smallville High newspaper. The Torch was a small classroom near the end of the school, just past the library. Claire only ever went there to pick up Clark or to see Chloe. Pulling up to the familiar yellow-and-red building, she hopped out of her truck and headed inside.
As she walked into the room, she could see Clark, Chloe, and Pete deep in conversation over something—probably one of Chloe’s “Wall of Weird” investigations. Ever since the meteor shower, strange things had been happening in Smallville, and Claire had learned to expect the unexpected. She suspected, though she would never admit it aloud, that Clark’s origins had a lot to do with it.
“Hey,” she said as they spotted her walking in. “Ready to go?” Clark turned and gave her his signature Kent smile. “Yep,” he said, sliding his backpack over his shoulder.
Chapter Text
Chapter Two
Claire set down the last stack of hay bales, wiping her hands on her jeans. Her mind, however, wasn’t on the fields. Brochures and acceptance letters sprawled across her bed, each one representing a different path. Law school was her dream—but where, and how, she would get there, felt enormous in its importance.
Martha appeared at the barn door, a gentle smile on her face. “Whatever you decide, Claire, you’ve got the heart and the brains to make it work. Trust yourself.”
Claire nodded, taking out the thick envelope from Harvard Law School from her jean pocket. Her fingers lingered over the embossed letters. This is it. This is where I’m meant to go. “I’ve made my choice,” she whispered to herself, a small surge of pride warming her chest.
The auditorium buzzed with laughter, applause, and the shuffle of gowns. Claire smiled at familiar faces, but her attention flicked to the edge of the room. Lex Luthor.
He caught her eye and gave a small, polite nod. Of course he’d be here, she thought, irritation pricking her chest. Why does he have to keep appearing everywhere Clark goes?
As she received her diploma, Lex approached. His presence was calm, polished, and infuriating all at once.
“Claire,” he said smoothly, extending a hand. “Congratulations. Harvard Law, right? That’s… impressive.”
Claire raised an eyebrow, masking her surprise. “Yes. Thank you.” She shook his hand, careful not to linger.
Lex’s gaze lingered just long enough to make her stomach tighten. “It’s impressive… you’ve always struck me as someone who knows exactly what she wants.”
Claire smiled politely, suppressing the irritation that always surfaced around him. “I prefer to think of it as being practical,” she said.
He tilted his head, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.
Claire nodded, forcing herself to look away. Why does my stomach feel likes its being tied in knots?
Back at the Kent farm, the sun low over the fields, Claire sat with Clark and her parents, laughter and congratulations filling the air. She felt proud, relieved, and a little overwhelmed by the future.
Still, even as she celebrated, she couldn’t fully shake the memory of Lex’s calm gaze, his words still echoing faintly in her mind. She clenched her hands in her lap. I don’t like him. Not even a little. So why can’t I stop thinking about him?
She pushed the thought aside. Harvard was waiting. College was waiting. Family was waiting. Her life was waiting.
That night, as Claire lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the diploma rested on her desk beside the Harvard envelope. The weight of the future felt both thrilling and terrifying, like standing at the edge of something vast and unknown. Smallville was all she had ever known—but it wasn’t all she was meant for. She told herself she was ready to leave it behind. And yet, despite every effort, her thoughts strayed once more to Lex Luthor’s unreadable smile, and she hated herself for wondering what he had really meant.
The journey to Boston had been long, but Claire barely noticed. Her head was buried in casebooks and essays, her mind sharpening with every new challenge. Harvard was everything she had dreamed of—intimidating, demanding, but alive with possibility. For the first time, she felt like she was exactly where she belonged.
Still, on quiet nights in her dorm room, she sometimes thought of home. She missed Martha’s warm laughter, Jonathan’s steady guidance, and Clark’s unshakable optimism. Smallville felt a world away, yet it was the foundation she carried with her into every classroom and every lecture. Harvard might be her future, but Smallville would always be her heart.
Notes:
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 3
Notes:
There is a time skip at the beginning of this chapter. Claire is returning to Smallville for the summer after being away for two years. Also this one is loooonng so please forgive me.
Chapter Text
Chapter Three
Claire balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear as she tugged her suitcase out from under her dorm bed. “So you’re really not coming to Metropolis?” Rachel, her new best friend, teased through the crackling line, though there was a trace of disappointment under the humour.
“I can’t,” Claire said, laughing softly as she wrestled the stubborn suitcase zipper closed. “I promised my mom and dad I’d come home this summer. They haven’t seen me in almost two years. Besides, if I skip out again, my dad will personally drag me back to Kansas.”
“Fine,” Rachel sighed dramatically. “But when you get bored in farm country, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Metropolis will be waiting—with good coffee, late nights, and absolutely zero tractors.”
Claire smiled despite herself. “I’ll keep that in mind. And I promise—I’ll come visit you for a weekend. Just don’t get into too much trouble without me.”
“Deal,” Rachel said, her grin almost audible through the phone. Claire hung up, her eyes falling to the half-packed boxes stacked against the wall.
Last summer, she hadn’t gone home either—she’d stayed in Boston, buried in a summer internship at a small law firm. It had been gruelling, the kind of job that meant long nights of research and filing briefs no one would ever read, but it gave her a taste of the world she wanted for herself. And it had been easier than facing the tug-of-war she always felt about Smallville—her love for the farm, her family, and the nagging sense that she didn’t quite belong there anymore.
Now, though, she was out of excuses. Two years was long enough. It was time to go home.
The bus wheezed to a stop in the middle of Smallville, its brakes squealing in protest as though the long ride from Boston had worn it out too. Claire stepped down onto the cracked pavement, the warm Kansas air wrapping around her like a heavy blanket.
She could smell it instantly, fresh cut grass, dust, and the faint tang of cornfields just beginning to ripen. It was the kind of scent you never forgot, no matter how far you ran.
The Kent farmhouse waited just a short drive out of town, but she paused for a moment, taking it in—the modest storefronts, the water tower rising above the fields, the faces that always seemed to know everyone else’s business. A new sign caught her eye though, the words “The Talon” spread across Nell’s old flower shop.
Claire’s lips curved into a small, amused smile. Things change, she thought, even here. But some things—like the pull of home—never did. She hoisted her suitcase off the bus and shouldered it, the familiar weight strangely comforting.
A few steps later, she spotted Clark leaning against the beat-up blue pickup, waving like a fool. His grin was just as she remembered, bright and unshakable.
“Need a ride, college girl?” he called.
Claire grinned like a wild animal and sprinted toward Clark. One thing that would never change was her love for her younger brother. He dropped the backpack he’d been juggling and caught her in a tight, steady hug, his familiar warmth washing over her like sunlight through the farmhouse windows.
“You’ve gotten taller,” Clark said, laughing, his arms still around her. “And stronger too, I think… you can actually keep up with me now.” He grinned, smirking because they both knew it wasn’t true.
Claire pulled back just enough to ruffle his hair, smiling. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m still your big sister, remember?”
Clark laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Missed you, Claire.”
“I missed you too,” she said, her chest tightening with the weight of the past two years. “It’s good to be home.”
Clark grabbed the keys to his beat-up pickup, tossing Claire’s suitcase into the bed of the truck. “Hop in,” he said with a grin. “You’ve got to tell me everything about Harvard on the way.” Claire climbed in, settling into the passenger seat. The engine rumbled to life, and they pulled onto the familiar country roads leading out of town. Fields stretched on either side, golden in the late afternoon sun, and the wind carried that unmistakable mix of grass, dust, and promise that only Kansas could offer.
“So… Harvard, huh?” Clark asked after a comfortable silence. “Sounds like you’ve been busy.”
“You have no idea,” Claire replied, leaning back in her seat. “Summer internships, classes, late nights in the library… it was exhausting, but worth it. I feel like I’ve grown more in the last two years than in all of high school combined.”
Clark nodded, glancing at her with pride. “Sounds like my big sister hasn’t slowed down one bit.”
Claire smiled, feeling the tension of her city life fade with each mile. Soon, the Kent farmhouse came into view, white paint sun-faded and porch steps creaking just as she remembered.
Martha was the first to see them, stepping onto the porch with a tea towel still in her hands. “Claire!” she called, rushing down the steps before Claire could even slide out of the truck.
Claire leapt from the seat, grinning, and Martha wrapped her in a tight hug. “You’re finally home,” Martha said, voice thick with emotion.
Jonathan appeared behind her, a broad smile stretching across his face. “You’ve grown, Claire. Hard to believe my little girl is off conquering the world already.”
Claire laughed, the familiar warmth of her family washing over her. “I’ve missed this,” she admitted, glancing around the farmhouse she’d called home for so long. Clark chuckled beside her. “Told you she’d come back eventually.”
Martha pulled her inside, fussing over her jacket and asking a million questions at once, while Jonathan ruffled her hair playfully. Claire felt the full weight of home settle around her—a place that had waited patiently, unchanged in all the right ways, ready for her to return.
Claire had barely unpacked before a sleek, black car rolled up the driveway. She froze, recognizing the polished growl of the engine immediately. Her stomach sank.
“Of course,” she muttered under her breath.
Lex Luthor stepped out with his usual calm precision, his tailored suit somehow out of place against the sun-drenched fields of Smallville. He gave a polite nod, but there was something in his eyes—curiosity, amusement, maybe even approval—that made Claire shift uncomfortably.
“Claire,” he said smoothly, his voice measured, almost casual. “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”
“I’ve been gone for two years,” Claire replied coolly, keeping her hands clasped in front of her. “It’s about time I came back.”
Lex tilted his head, studying her with a faint, unreadable smile. “You’ve… grown up. Quite a bit, actually.” Claire stiffened, the hint of suggestiveness in his tone making her flush. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said tersely, turning toward the house.
“I just thought I’d stop by to say hello… and to see Clark,” Lex added smoothly, keeping his gaze on her for just a moment longer than necessary.
“He’s inside. You can talk to him there,” Claire replied, her jaw tightening. As Lex walked toward the front steps, Claire tried to push down the unexpected flutter of tension his presence always seemed to bring. She didn’t like him. She didn’t trust him. And yet… his words lingered longer than she wanted.
Claire led Lex up the front steps, her grip on the doorknob a little tighter than usual. He followed with an almost casual ease, as if the farmhouse were a place he belonged. Once inside, the familiar warmth of the Kent home washed over her—soft lighting, the faint scent of dinner in progress, and the quiet hum of home.
Martha, standing near the kitchen, looked up as they entered. Her eyes softened when she saw Claire but then flicked toward Lex. “Lex,” she said, her tone polite yet welcoming. “It’s good to see you again. Why don’t you stay for dinner? I’d love for everyone to catch up.”
Lex inclined his head smoothly. “Thank you, Mrs. Kent. I’d be delighted.”
Claire’s jaw tightened slightly, but she said nothing, letting the familiar domestic rhythm carry them into the kitchen. Clark, oblivious to the tension simmering just beneath the surface, grinned at his friend. “Dinner at the Kents’ is always better with you here, Lex.”
Lex gave a small, polite smile in return, keeping his attention steady on Clark. Claire, meanwhile, felt a prickling awareness as she took her seat, the faintest trace of irritation—and something more confusing—clinging to her.
Clark continued chatting happily with Lex about school, work, and some project for the Touch, completely unaware of the way Claire’s eyes kept flicking toward him, her thoughts tangled between annoyance and something she didn’t quite want to admit.
The smell of roast chicken and fresh bread filled the kitchen as Martha set down the last of the side dishes.
“So, Lex,” Claire began cautiously, keeping her tone polite, “how’s work at the plant this year?”
Lex leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression calm but assessing. “Busy, as always,” he said smoothly. “My father keeps me occupied with… projects that need attention. Smallville isn’t exactly Metropolis, but I’m learning the value of hands-on experience.” His gaze flicked briefly to Claire, sharp but controlled. “And you? Still burying yourself in law books, I hear.”
Claire stiffened, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s… challenging. But I like it. Keeps me busy.”
Lex’s lips curved into a subtle, calculating smile. “I admire that. You’ve grown into someone remarkably capable.” There was a pause, and the way he said it, almost as if weighing her reaction, made Claire flush with irritation.
“Thanks,” she murmured, looking down at her plate.
Clark stretched back in his chair, smiling easily. “You two should try talking more—it’s like you’re speaking different languages sometimes.”
Lex’s lips curved into a faint, almost teasing smile. “Perhaps. But I find differences… stimulating,” he said, his tone smooth, deliberate, and just a touch challenging.
Martha glanced between them, a knowing look in her eyes. “I do hope you’re finding common ground,” she said lightly, though her voice carried the weight of a mother used to reading people.
Claire pressed her lips together, forcing a polite nod. “Of course, Ma,” she said, though her gaze kept flicking to Lex with a mixture of caution and irritation.
Lex inclined his head in acknowledgment, calm and precise, as if measuring the room without revealing his thoughts. Claire tried to focus on the warmth of being home, the familiar comfort of the farmhouse, but the quiet tension Lex brought into the space prickled at her senses, refusing to be ignored.
Claire sipped her coffee at a corner table in the Talon, the familiar clatter of coffee cups and murmur of voices filling the air. Lana leaned across the table, her eyes sparkling as she began recounting a slightly romantic story about Clark from last week.
“…and then he just—” Lana started, grinning.
“Lana,” Claire interrupted sharply, holding up a hand, “that’s my brother.”
Lana laughed, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay! I just thought it was cute.”
Before Claire could respond, a polished, familiar voice cut through the hum of the room.
“Claire.”
Claire looked up and froze. Lex was standing beside their table, perfectly composed, his sharp gaze assessing her without a hint of malice. “Lana,” he said smoothly, inclining his head toward her friend.
Claire’s stomach tightened as he dropped into the empty chair across from them, his presence calm, controlled, and infuriatingly magnetic. “I thought I’d stop by and see how things are going,” Lex said evenly. His eyes flicked to Claire, measuring her reaction with that subtle mix of curiosity and amusement she hated.
Lana smiled and leaned back slightly. “I’ll be right back, Lex—I need to show you something.” She stood and slipped away toward the counter. Lex followed, exchanging a few quiet words, and within moments they were gone, leaving Claire alone at the table. She let out a sharp breath, running a hand through her hair and glaring after them.
A few minutes later, Lana returned, sliding back into her seat with a sly grin. “So…,” she said, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Claire narrowed her eyes. “So… what? Lana, I can’t believe you went into business with him! Do you even realize who you’re dealing with? A Luthor! I want to read a copy of your contract just to be sure.”
Lana leaned back, tilting her head teasingly. “Oh, don’t worry about me—I had Nell’s lawyer read it over for me. But Claire… you. I can practically feel the tension radiating off you. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice it.”
Claire’s cheeks flushed instantly. “Tension? That’s ridiculous. He’s just… infuriating! That’s all!”
Lana chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. “Uh-huh. Sure. Totally infuriating. Yet here you are, practically vibrating every time he’s around. I think you like a little bit of it… whether you admit it or not.”
Claire huffed, crossing her arms, trying to regain composure, but she couldn’t stop replaying Lex’s calm, calculating gaze earlier. “You are impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head—this time thinking it more about him than Lana.
Claire shoved her chair back, muttering under her breath, and stormed toward the door. She couldn’t believe Lana—couldn’t believe him—and the frustration made her steps sharp, her focus entirely on getting out of the Talon.
She didn’t notice the shadow moving toward her until it was too late. She collided almost headfirst with someone solid, her knees threatening to buckle.
“Whoa—easy!” a calm, familiar voice said.
Before she could react, Lex’s arms wrapped around her, holding her upright. Claire froze, her heart skipping a beat as she realized just how close they were.
Then, impossibly close, Lex’s lips brushed against her ear, and he whispered softly, “Careful.”
Lex’s eyes met hers, intense and unwavering, and a shock ran straight down to her core, making her chest tighten.
Claire yanked back immediately, stepping away as fast as she could, cheeks burning. “I—I’m fine!” she stammered, fumbling for words.
Lex’s faint smile remained, unshaken. “Of course,” he said smoothly, releasing her but lingering just a fraction too long before letting her go.
Claire muttered under her breath, brushing her hands along her jeans as if to erase the moment. “Ridiculous…” she whispered, more to herself than to him. And yet, try as she might, she couldn’t stop replaying the warmth of his arms, the unnerving calm of his eyes, and the sound of his voice so close to her ear.