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Conner had never had a home. Hell, he didn’t even know what “home” really meant. People define it differently, with some saying it’s the place you feel the most comfortable, the most “yourself”. Others say that it’s the people who make a home—that it’s a place where your family and those you care for the most are. And, well, Conner had never had either of those. He had never felt truly comfortable or “himself” anywhere. He’s not sure he would even know what that feels like if he did have. Is it possible to be comfortable with yourself when your existence is, for lack of a better word, an abomination?
And, of course, Conner had also never had a family. How could he, being made the way he was. He had friends, no doubt, and people he would die for without a second thought, but his devotion had never been reciprocated on the same level. Which he understood, he would never expect anyone to want to die for him. The whole reason he existed was to save people, how could he let someone die over him?
So, Conner had no home. But if he was asked, he would say the farmhouse was the closest thing he’d ever get.
Every morning, he’d rise with the sun to tend to the animals and complete his list of daily chores. He would share meals with Ma and Pa, and Clark, Lois, and Jon if they were visiting. He would bask in the sunlight, far from any watching eyes. He would experiment with his TTK, seeing how far it could reach, how strong it could get, how intricately it could work. He could wander around without worrying he’d hurt someone by not being careful enough. He could simply exist out in the fields.
But, if Conner was being truly honest with himself, there was one place he wished more than anything he could call his home. When he was laying in bed on those crushing, lonely nights, where the world feels too big and Conner feels far too small, he found himself wishing that his home was that little apartment in Metropolis. With Lois and Jon, and Clark.
But that was impossible. It was so impossible it was laughable.
Conner had no idea what Clark thought of him, though he couldn’t imagine it was anything good. How were you supposed to feel about a clone made from your DNA and the DNA of the person whose sole goal was to ruin your life? He imagined it must feel quite violating, but Clark did a good job of masking his discomfort around Conner. But he could still tell. He could see it every time Clark looked away after more than two seconds of eye contact, desperate for something else to take his attention. He could see it every time Clark went silent at the mention of Conner’s origins, of Cadmus or Luthor. He could see it every time Clark found a reason that Conner and Jon couldn’t be left alone together, always inserting himself and taking over the situation.
And Conner didn’t blame him—how could he? Like he said, Clark didn’t have any real responsibility for him. Conner was his own “person”, and his existence wasn’t the same as everyone else’s. He didn’t have parents, or a family, or a home. That’s just how it was. The Kents had already been so generous to him, he couldn’t possibly ask for anything more.
But that didn’t stop him from wanting more.
That’s how Conner found himself atop one of the larger skyscrapers of Metropolis, running away from his problems, too afraid and fragile to face them head-on. He thought if he had to say another word tonight it just might break him completely.
He had been visiting Clark and his family at their apartment in Metropolis for the weekend, courtesy of a—depending on your perspective—well-timed suggestion by Jon and enthusiastic approval from Lois. Who was Conner to crush the poor kid’s spirit when he was so clearly excited by the possibility of a sleepover with Superboy? It had been with a wary glance towards Clark that Conner accepted the invitation, and now there he was one week later, sitting 1,000 feet up with a head too full and a heart too empty.
He thought back to the conversation he and Clark were having before he fled, overwhelmed and confused.
They had been preparing dinner, chicken pot pie, since Conner had picked up a few skills from Ma during his time at the farmhouse. Clark had him on chopping duty while he prepared the dough, an awkward silence falling over them that Conner was desperate to break but had no idea how.
Conner almost couldn’t contain a sigh of relief when Clark finally spoke up.
“So, Ma and Pa couldn’t stop talking about your graduation coming up in a few weeks. Said you’re the Valedictorian and will be giving a speech at the ceremony?” The sentence sounded like a question falling from Clark’s lips, and Conner hesitated, unsure of why Clark felt the need to bring this up.
“Oh, uh, yeah! Yeah, I have a draft written out and everything, I guess it’s pretty cool,” he began. “Kinda feels like cheating, though, when most of the information that helped me through my classes was downloaded into my brain before I was even conscious.” He bit his tongue and trailed off, cursing himself for even alluding to Cadmus. It was just, how could he take credit for something he didn’t even work for?
Clark paused mixing together the flour and butter concoction to turn towards Conner, wiping his hands on his apron. “Oh, well, I wouldn’t call that cheating. I think it makes up for the years of schooling the other kids went through that you never got.” As Conner turned around to face Clark, he almost thought he could see Clark’s eyes take on a sad sheen, softening a little around the edges. “Valedictorian is quite the accomplishment, regardless. It’s more than just doing well in your classes, and you should be proud of yourself. Lord knows Ma and Pa are, the way they keep talking about you.”
Mortifyingly, Conner felt a flush creep up his neck and onto his face at the words. He’d never heard anyone say they were proud of him before, even if he was being told indirectly. He allowed his lips to form a faint smile. “Ah, well, that’s… that’s nice to hear. Ma and Pa have been so kind to me, I’m glad I’ve done something they can feel proud of.”
Clark seemed to pause at this, almost as if he needed a second to process the words. Conner felt his heart stuttered and worried he’d gone too far, sounded too comfortable about Ma and Pa, too familial. He turned back to the cutting board and continued dicing the onions, speaking up again. “But it’s probably about time I get out of their hair, anyhow. After graduation I can get my own place, maybe look into college or get a real job somewhere.” And he meant it. Conner had been planning to look for apartments out in the city, any city. Maybe Metropolis, though he doubted he’d be very welcomed there. What’s the point of finally leaving Clark’s family alone just to insert himself back into it?
Conner heard what almost sounded like a gasp from Clark. “You—I didn’t know you were moving out after high school. Ma and Pa never told me.” He sounded upset, shit. Of course he was upset! Here Conner was making plans to go off on his own after Clark and his family had been kind enough to look after him all this time. He had started making plans without permission from the people in charge of him.
“Oh, I, uh, I haven’t actually brought it up with them, yet. I was planning on talking to them about it this week, I swear! I just figured, y’know, they’ve done so much for me already, I can’t keep leeching off of them forever. Gotta learn how to support myself eventually.” His voice wavered a bit, nervous of overstepping. He cut the onion a little too aggressively, the sound of the knife against the cutting board too loud in the small kitchen.
“You—what? You’re not leeching off of anyone, Conner,” Clark began, his voice taking a slight tone of panic and confusion. “We just—I guess we just didn’t consider you’d want to move out so soon, is all. Ma and Pa said you didn’t seem all that interested in college and were always talking about helping out some more on the farm. I guess we just assumed you had wanted to stay.” Conner faltered just a bit, confused. Why would what he wanted matter? It was their house, their home. Conner was just the someone they were letting live there until he could get himself together. Or, that’s what he thought.
Conner could feel Clark’s eyes on the back of his head, making him uneasy. He stopped his chopping, turning his head until Clark was in his periphery. “Oh, no, it’s—I don’t want to overstay my welcome. But—I mean—of course I’d be more than happy to keep helping with the farm, I know it can be a lot for Pa at his age. But, I don’t have to live there to help, y’know, so I just figured…” He trailed off, unsure of where this conversation could go. “But, I mean, if you’d all prefer I stay then that’s no issue. I could always look for a job in Smallville and start paying rent, or something.”
Clark’s face twisted a little, eyebrows furrowing and mouth turning downwards. “Ma and Pa would never make you pay rent! You—it’s—I mean if you want to move out we’d never stop you, goodness no!” Clark seemed to recollect himself, letting the tension slip away. “I guess it shouldn’t be so surprising, though. As much as I love Smallville, there’s only so long you can stay before you start itching to experience somewhere new. I mean, that’s how I ended up here in the first place.” He finished with a smile, trying to catch Conner’s eye.
“I—yeah. I mean, I’ve already seen so many places, but I guess seeing and living somewhere are pretty different. I don’t even—I’m not sure what to expect to be honest, just feels like it’s time.” Conner really wanted this conversation to be over, but Clark clearly didn’t feel the same.
“Well, that’s an exciting step to be taking, I’m glad you’re doing something that’ll make you happy.” Conner’s mouth twitched at Clark’s words. Would moving out of the farm, away from Ma and Pa and Smallville make him happy? He didn’t know. He didn’t think it mattered. “Just know they’ll be asking you to come and visit any chance you get. No matter where you end up you’ll always have a home at the farmhouse. And with us, of course.”
The words stunned Conner so suddenly that the knife nearly slipped out of his hand, and he quickly set it down to turn and fully face Clark. He wasn’t sure what expression he held on his face, but it seemed to alarm Clark as his eyebrows raised with what Conner would call worry, if he didn’t know better. Conner’s mouth opened and closed several times before he looked to the side, feeling his eyes begin to burn. Why would Clark say that? He wasn’t cruel—how could Superman ever be cruel—but the words felt like a sick joke, leaving behind a weight in his stomach.
“Conner?” Even Clark’s voice sounded worried, rising in pitch. He’d heard him use that tone with Jon, a few times, when the boy was upset or crying. He never imagined it would be aimed towards him. “Are you alright? I—what’s wrong?” He heard more than saw Clark take step forward as tears began to pool in his eyes, making the room turn blurry. He thought he could see the man’s arms reach up and towards him.
Conner turned back around to the cutting board, raising an arm to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. “Nothing, nothing,” he couldn’t keep the waiver out of his voice. He cleared his throat before continuing, “I—the onions are just getting to me, I think. These ones are pretty strong.” He forced out a hollow laugh, cringing at how fake it sounded. “Sorry.”
Clark was silent for a second, but Conner could tell he hadn’t stepped back yet. “No, Conner, I—If anything I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just, I know we’ll all miss having you around all the time, but of course we’ll be happy as long as you’re happy! I—“ He cut himself off, clearly uncertain of how he wanted to continue this conversation.
Conner took a breath and grabbed the knife, getting back to dicing the onions. He felt the tears well up again and fought to keep them from falling. “You really don’t have to say that. I—I know it’s not easy dealing with me. You don’t have to worry about me anymore, I promise I can take care of myself, and I won’t cause you any issues. Just—you don’t have to sugarcoat it.”
There was another pause as the sound of Conner’s knife repeatedly hitting the cutting board filled the room. “I don’t have to—what? Conner, what are you talking about? Causing us trouble? You could never be any trouble, we love you.”
Conner brought the knife down with so much force the cutting board split in two, but he hardly noticed as his frustration boiled over. “Don’t—Why would you say that!” He kept his back to Clark as the tears finally began falling down his face. He placed his palms on the counter to brace himself as the pit in his stomach grew. “That’s—you’re not cruel Clark, but that’s cruel. Don’t say that. I can’t—“ He had to choke down a sob. God this was mortifying. He couldn’t even get out of the Kents’ lives without embarrassing himself.
“Say what? That we love you? Conner,” his voice almost sounded frantic, and each word out of his mouth felt like a knife in his heart. “Conner, of course we love you. I—how could you—” he cut himself off. “I don’t think we’re on the same page right now, son.” The knife twisted. Conner didn’t understand what was going on. Clark’s tone was gentle, like he was worried he was going to scare him off. Maybe he would.
“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t—I’ll talk with Ma and Pa when I’m back at the farmhouse and I’ll let them know I’m moving out.” Conner began wiping his face again, desperate for this to be over.
“No, Conner, please. I don’t know what’s going on in your head right now but I don’t think you’re understanding me. You know we love you, right? Ma, Pa, Lois, Jon and me. We love you, please tell me you know that.”
“Stop!” Conner couldn’t hold back his sobs any longer. “I don’t—why are you doing this?” God, he sounded whiny but Clark just won’t drop it.
“I’m not trying to do anything, Connor, I’m sorry, but—“
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” Conner interrupted the other man, beginning to get angry. “I know that you—you and Ma and Pa—you all just, just put up with me because you feel like you have to. Like it’s your fault I exist.” Clark looked like he wanted to interrupt but Conner kept going, raising his voice. “But now I’m telling you that you don’t have to worry about that anymore. I know how to take care of myself, and I know how to control myself. You don’t have to worry about me going off and destroying public property or injuring someone on accident. Just—why won’t you just let this go?”
“Conner, I’m not—God, of course I know how capable you are, I’ve seen it time and time again,” the desperation in his voice was clear now, and Conner wanted nothing more than for him to shut up. “We don’t—we haven’t been ‘putting up with you’! We care about you! We want to help you grow and succeed in life, we want you to be happy. I thought—God, don’t you how important you are to us?” Clark had gotten closer as he was talking, placing his hand on Conner’s shoulder as he finished speaking. Conner was too lost in his own head and immediately flinched away from the contact, startled.
His breathing began to pick up as he tried to make sense of Clark’s words. Superman wasn’t cruel, he didn’t lie just for the hell of. He didn’t go out of his way to make people feel awful, to make them feel how Conner was feeling right then. But, it just didn’t add up. Conner would never have people who cared about him, he wasn’t someone you could care about. He was hardly a person, most of the time. How could there be enough of him for someone to care about in the ways Clark was claiming he and his family do. Everything was suddenly too bright, too loud—he could hear the water flowing through the pipe into the bathtub in the unit over. He could see the specks of dust floating in the air, illuminated by the usually-calming warm kitchen lights. He felt like his skin was shrinking and the walls were closing in and his lungs were going to burst if he didn’t get out of here.
He thought he could hear Clark begin to say something but he didn’t bother trying to focus on the man. His eyes looked around desperately, spotting the open patio door just past the kitchen entrance. He stumbled away from Clark, nearly toppling over as his hip smashed into the kitchen island. Clark hesitated, surprised by his sudden escape no doubt. Conner was already pushing himself out the window, using his TTK to fly through the air and away from it all. He heard Clark call out his name and for a moment he worried the man was going to go chasing after him. But after a few seconds it seemed that Conner was going to be left alone, finally. Being alone was fine, it was normal. He was used to it.
Eventually the stress from his and Clark’s conversation and his panic attack hit him full force and he searched for a place to land and lick his metaphorical wounds. And thus, sitting on a rooftop 1,000 feet up in the middle of Metropolis.
As his breathing evened out and his mind began to clear, Conner pulled his legs to his chest and groaned, realizing how childish it was for him to run off because of a conversation was making him feel bad. Why did he have to overreact so horrendously?
He just didn’t understand why Clark was saying those things. He couldn’t let himself begin to hope that there was even a slight possibility those words were the truth. If he did, he was sure that being rejected by Clark and his family again would well and truly break him. He’s had to pick up the pieces of himself too many times, once more and they wouldn’t fit back together again.
He let the confusion and frustration fall over him, tears beginning to pour down his face. His chest began to heave with quiet sobs and he allowed himself to feel all the sadness and loneliness festering inside of him. He can’t expect anything different. Nothing would ever change for him, not like that. Conner didn’t get a loving family or a warm home. He was lucky they kept him alive after finding out what he was.
But he couldn’t stop himself from wanting someone to care about him. He wanted someone who counted down the days or minutes or seconds until they got to see him again, feeling like something was missing when he wasn’t around. He wanted someone to hold him and whisper soothing words into his ear when he was upset or overwhelmed. He wanted someone to love him. He wanted someone to want him.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been crying, but it felt like hours before his tears began to ebb away. As he was finally beginning to calm down, he heard the quiet thump of someone landing a few feet behind him. Superman.
He turned his head to the side, letting his cheek rest against his legs and he glanced back at the hero. Superman looked worried, and hesitant. Like Conner was a wild animal that would pounce if given the opportunity.
Conner sighed and buried his face back into his knees, not surprised to find he had no fight left in him. He hoped that Clark would finally take a hint and leave him alone, but, of course, the man just walked towards him slowly, sitting down next to Conner and interrupted the silence that enveloped them.
“Conner, I’m sorry,” the man began, and Conner felt his brain pause. Why was Clark apologizing? Conner was the one who overreacted and ran off because he couldn’t handle a simple conversation, and Clark continued. “I really screwed this one up, didn’t I?” He let out a sad laugh.
Conner turned his head towards the man again, eyes suspicious. Where was he going with this?
“I know I was horrible to you when we first met, and there’s no one to blame for that but myself. I’m so sorry for how I treated you, for how I alienated you when all you needed was someone to take you in and care for you.” Conner was officially as confused as he could be, he thought. Why were they talking about when they first met? What does that have to do with anything?
His eyebrows furrowed and Clark took this as a cue to continue, turning his gaze out towards the city. “I thought—I thought I had made amends with you, since then. I thought after you took on the name Conner and moved in with Ma and Pa that you knew I regretted how I treated you. I didn’t think you thought I was doing it out of nothing more than a feeling of responsibility.” He sounded devastated as he finished the sentence, and Conner didn’t know what to say. Actually, Conner didn’t have any thoughts going through his head other than “what?”
“When you agreed to come visit us this weekend, I was beyond happy. I thought you were feeling more comfortable around me and I was so excited to have you in my home—to show you that you were welcome in my life.” He brought his eye back to Conner’s, and the boy was shocked to see them watery. Superman was on the verge of tears and somehow it was Conner’s fault.
Except—it didn’t feel like Conner had done anything, this time. Clark’s words started to sink in, and Conner decided he wouldn’t let himself feel guilty over this. Not yet.
“Conner, I’m realizing that the words I left unsaid weren’t nearly as clear as I’d hoped they would be, and that’s my fault. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I need you to know that I love you.” Clark held Conner’s gaze firmly as a few stray tears began to slide down his face. He placed a hand on Conner’s shoulder, mirroring the scene in the kitchen. But this time, Conner didn’t flinch away. In fact, he felt himself lean into the touch. “You are a part of my family. You are a part of this family. Lois, Jon, Ma and Pa, Kara—hell, even Krypto—you mean so much more to all of us that you know. And it’s my fault you don’t know. I was too afraid to face my misplaced fears when we first met, and too cowardly to take responsibility for my mistakes after I realized how horribly I had treated you. I let myself think that we could get past that without me taking accountability. And I know I must sound like a broken record, but God Conner, I’m so sorry.” Clark sounded choked up as he finally stopped, his hand trailing up towards the back of Conner’s neck, cradling the base of his head. His touch was so soft, so gentle and Conner suddenly felt like he was going to burst into tears.
He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure how to process what Clark was telling him.
Clark had hated him in the beginning, he knew that. That was still true. But at some point, apparently, Clark had stopped hating him and started… caring about him, instead? Conner didn’t know how to feel. Clark didn’t hate him. Clark cared about him. Clark loved him. This was—well, it was everything Conner had ever wanted, laid out in front of him on a golden plate. It was too good to be true.
He let out a shaky breath, steeling himself to finally respond. “I don’t—“ his voice cracked, and he looked away, resting his head on his knees as he stared straight ahead. Clark’s hand on his neck didn’t move, and Conner felt one of the knots in his stomach loosen. “I don’t know how to believe that.”
Clark’s hand slowly moved over to his other shoulder, giving Conner the chance to push him away if he wanted. Then Conner felt himself gently being pulled towards Clark until his head could fit into the crook of his neck. The boy felt incredibly out of his element, but also so, so safe. How could anything hurt him when Superman had him in his arms?
“Then I’ll just have to be sure to keep telling you how much I love you, and how incredibly happy I am to have you in my life and in my family.”
And Conner let himself start to believe that maybe Clark was being honest. That tiny spark of hope opened a flood gate in him, and for the nth time that night he let out a small sob, burying his face further into Clark’s neck. The arm around him tightened as he began to shake, letting out tears he didn’t know he had left in him. As he cried, he felt relief settle into his bones and suddenly he thought that everything might just be alright.
Clark took a breath, seeming to want to say more. Conner pulled back just enough to look up at his face, though Clark kept his arm around his shoulders.
“You know, there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about while you were here. Nothing bad, I promise!” Clark rushed to reassure after Conner tensed with worry. “I was planning on talking to you after dinner, but, well, no time like the present.” A small smile crept onto the man’s face and Conner was surprised to find that he wasn’t scared of what the next words out of Clark’s mouth were going to be.
“I was so happy when Ma gave you your name, and you officially became a Kent.” The words sent a jolt of warmth through Conner’s chest, and he felt himself relaxing even more. With an earnest smile, Clark continued, “After that, I knew I wanted you to be a part of my family in every way possible. As a Kent, but also as an El.”
Conner felt his heart stop. He didn’t dare believe Clark was going where he thought he was going. He had never let himself even consider this as a possibility, it was too much.
“Conner,” Clark placed a hand on each of Conner’s shoulders, turning the boy to face him fully. “I have a cousin from Krypton whose name was Kon-El. We weren't related by blood, but his family was adopted into the House of El, and he was family in all the ways that mattered. He was a noble man, strong-willed and virtuous. You remind me of him. And, if you'd like, I would be honored if you would accept the name Kon-El.”
Conner was frozen, his mouth hanging open. If he had any tears left he would be crying again, but instead he just sat there with his brain silent and heart hammering. He looked into Clark’s eyes, into Kal’s eyes, and saw nothing but warmth. He didn’t know what to do with that expression aimed towards him.
Still unable to find the words, Conner nodded his head frantically, surprising himself by throwing his arms around the man. Clark—Kal—didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his back and gently squeeze him.
“Thank you,” Conner whispered, not fully convinced this wasn’t a dream.
“Oh, Kon, you don’t have to thank me,” Kal said sadly. “I should have done this the moment I first saw you. You’ve always been an El, it was never my right to keep that from you. And no one will ever be able to take that away. This name, this family, it’s yours.”
Conner—Kon–pulled back to look at Kal, a real smile gracing his face for the first time that night. “It’s mine,” he repeated, and might be beginning to believe it. But his doubts couldn’t disappear that easily, and he found himself worrying out loud. “You really mean it all—that I’m a part of your family? That you love me? That—that Ma and Pa and Lois and—and Jon love me, too?”
Clark looked at him, that sad smile never leaving his face. He brought both of his hands up to cradle Kon’s face and the boy felt his face heat up at the gesture. “Kon, I swear on my life, I swear on the Earth that I mean that with my whole heart. I love you so, so much.” He pulled Kon’s face forward and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “You’re our boy.”
Kon had never felt so warm before. He had never felt so safe. He had never felt so loved. And wasn’t that a concept—he was loved. He was loved by so many people. The people he loved, who he considered his family but never thought he could be theirs, loved him back.
“I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much stress tonight,” Clark said. “If you’d prefer to go back to Kansas and cut the weekend short, that’s more than okay.” Kon’s heart stuttered at the thought, scared to leave this moment so quickly. “But if not, I think I heard Lois order pizza from Jon’s favorite shop downtown. If you’d like to give it a try?”
Kon couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to go back to that apartment and sit down with his family to eat dinner together.
“I mean, if Jon says it’s so good then how could I possibly say no,” he responded. God, he could hear the smile in his voice. He doesn’t think he’d ever been this happy before.
“Well then, Kon, let’s go home.” Clark stood up, reaching his hand down for Kon to take and helping the boy up. He didn’t let go of his hand as he began to float, preparing to fly back. Kon felt his chest go all fuzzy as he held onto the man.
“Yeah,” Kon agreed. “Let’s go home.”