Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tap, tap.

Craaaack.

Sloooop!

The egg dropped right into the metal bowl, joining a pile of sugar, butter, and flour. Clark hummed in an attempt to fill the silence, then grabbed his abandoned wooden spoon from the counter. He mixed with slow and steady rotations, letting the ingredients fold together. When satisfied, he placed his spoon back down on the flour-dusted countertop, careful not to make any jarring noise. 

He wiped his half-caked hands onto his apron—a deep green one, with a glittery red Christmas tree print on the front. His fingers grazed the rough sequins with every wipe. It was a ridiculous apron, but he couldn’t hold back a smile anyway. Lois had given it to him as a joke many years ago, and he couldn’t bear to get rid of it. 

Clark made his way to one of the upper cabinets, digging through to find his next ingredient: chocolate chips. 

One, two, three, four. He could so clearly picture ten-year-old Jon trying to throw them into a bowl held by Jordan from across the kitchen, one chocolate chip at a time, never missing. Jon would have a giant, focused grin on his face while Jordan would be half-hiding into his hoodie, but still there to support his brother anyway. They had done that all the time when they were younger. Baking cookies together as a family every December always came with Jon’s ‘help’ by playing with the ingredients, his attempt to cheer Jordan up…but they weren’t young anymore. 

No. They really weren’t young anymore.

And worse, it was December now, and Clark was alone, baking cookies all by himself.

He sighed, grabbing scissors to open the new bag, not feeling up to just ripping it open. He didn’t bother measuring. Didn’t bother playing a little game. Instead, he dumped most of the bag right into the bowl, sending a puff of flour right into his face. Startled by the sensation, Clark quickly coughed, then wiped his nose with his forearm, just under his rolled-up sleeve. He started laughing as more ended up all over his face at the action, making a complete mess. He still loved it, though. Even if he had to bake these cookies all alone, it was still worth it, especially knowing the smiles his family will have once they smell almost-done cookies baking in the oven. 

No matter how bad a day it was, cookies always cured it.

He inhaled deeply, imagining it now, imagining the finished product. He let each ingredient fill his enhanced senses: the flour, the butter, and now the chocolate chips. The memories of December’s past flooded his mind with every breath. Building snowmen. Decorating cookies. Setting up the Christmas tree. Wrapping presents. 

It was going to be a good December this year—he was sure of it.

Clark continued to mix the batter, the chocolate chips folding into the mixture with each rotation, causing it to become thicker and more difficult to stir with every turn. Instead of focusing on the aching in his wrist, he glanced out the kitchen window, eyes catching on the barn.

He beamed as he stared at the weathered red paint, the half-broken tractor, and the scattered hay. Their property was huge, wasn’t it? They’d always spend most of December in their townhouse in Metropolis—a property so much smaller than what they have now. They hadn’t been able to decorate the exterior the way he wanted to back then, not with only feet of a front yard. 

A warm feeling built in his chest as he remembered that front yard. He could still picture little Jon and Jordan asking excitedly for a giant reindeer inflatable, hopping in place with giant cheers and even bigger grins. He’d pick them both up, one in each arm, pretending they were riding on a sleigh. He had wanted to give them one of those inflatables—had wanted to get the biggest one he could find. 

He would’ve searched the globe for it. 

But maybe…maybe this year? They had the room, and although Clark had come to his senses since then and wouldn’t get a parade-worthy float anymore, he could still find a massive one this year. A smile grew on his face at the thought. It might be too late for six-year-old Jon and Jordan, but it wasn’t too late for their fourteen-year-old selves.

He tapped the wooden spoon onto the edge of the bowl, each bang releasing the excess batter as it fell to join the rest. But then a thought crossed his mind, and he paused the spoon in the air.  It might not be the first time they’d spent Christmas Day in Smallville, but it would be the first time they could experience Christmas knowing who Clark was now. The first time he could take them flying, see the festivities from the sky. Hop between cities in a blink, celebrating Christmas in many countries at once. But…how would Jon and Jordan even feel about a superpowered Christmas? 

The grin on his face dropped. The pleasant warmth that had been building in his chest morphed into a cold grasp. He paused his mixing, gripping the spoon tightly. What if they didn’t want to have a superpowered Christmas at all? The secret had only come out a few months ago…what if they’re still upset about it? 

Clark shook his head, abandoning his wooden spoon to search for a silicone spatula in the utensil drawer. There it was! He snatched it from the drawer and focused back on his bowl, working on scraping the sides. But each scrap only sent the horrible reminder of how betrayed the boys had felt when they had learned the secret, and remembering how upset they were clung to his chest like a harrowing, freezing chunk of Kryptonite.

He rubbed his chest with his free hand, trying to soothe the pressure away. He shouldn’t think like that. Jon and Jordan…they had always loved the magic of Christmas. And superpowers were almost like magic, weren’t they? 

Yeah, they would love it. He was sure.

Hope in hand, Clark focused back on the task in front of him, placing the spatula down and grabbing a cookie scoop. He dug into the batter one scoop at a time and placed chunks of dough onto a baking sheet, aligning them into neat rows. 

An alarm blared into the silence, causing Clark to nearly drop the pan he had just lifted. His heart pounded in his chest, eyes locking on the source. Right. The oven’s pre-heating alarm. Clark chuckled to himself, willed his heart to calm down, then pulled the oven door open. A blast of warm air shot into his face, fogging his glasses. He huffed out another laugh. He probably didn’t even need to wear these in the house anymore, but it still felt…comfortable. Like himself. A reminder that he was…still Clark. 

Even if everything around him was different than it used to be.

He placed the pan onto the top rack, wincing as the metal scraped the grooves. 

“It smells delicious,” Lois said, her voice instantly releasing the tension that had been building in his shoulders. Her voice traveled through the air like a song, filling the silence with a soft tune. She climbed down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. 

Clark looked over his shoulder, seeing a beautiful grin gracing her face. He let out a laugh as he closed the oven door and headed over to meet her. “It always does,” he said, but then he knitted his eyebrows together as he remembered where Lois had just been—in Jordan’s room. Earlier today, after grabbing a snack from the kitchen, he went to bed because he wasn’t feeling well. Dizziness, Jordan had said. Clark’s jaw tightened. “How’s Jordan?”

“C’mere,” Lois said, opening her arms with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Her smile instantly soothed his worry, like a balm over aching muscles.

Clark took her invitation without a second of hesitation, his sights only on her.

She hummed as Clark pressed into her, pulling him into a hug. “Still relaxing in bed, playing a game with Jonathan,” she finally answered. “He’s feeling a lot better.” Her voice muffled as she pressed her face deeper into his shoulder. 

He rested his cheek on her forehead and squeezed a little tighter around her back. They bobbed in place as if music filled the air around them. “Still a bit weird, don’t you think?” he mumbled, moving to a silent beat. “Jordan really shouldn’t be able to get sick anymore.”

“We don’t really know that, do we? Plus, a lot has happened lately. Maybe it’s stress?” 

A lot was an understatement. With John Henry Irons and Morgan Edge, it wasn’t just a lot. It was too much. Especially on top of the secret reveal, and Jordan’s ever-growing powers…

“Maybe it was too soon for me to try to get us back into normalcy. Thought the cookies...” He glanced at his bowl. His mess of sugar and flour. The oven. Clark let out a heavy sigh as more memories surfaced. Jon almost getting seriously hurt in John Henry’s trailer. Jordan’s lungs being frozen over. Emily, Jasper and Kyle nearly hurting Lois, Jon, and Sam just yesterday. He had thought baking cookies today would cheer everyone up like they’ve always done in the past, but it was a fool’s paradise. They’ve never experienced a threat that affected the entire family before, and now here they were, one after another.

There was no way cookies would magically fix anything.

Lois glanced up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips. “I’m sure they will still enjoy them, Clark. And maybe they’ll feel well enough to decorate them with you.” Like they used to, she didn’t say out loud, but had stopped a few years ago, pulling further and further away as they got closer and closer to their teenage years. “Besides,” she continued, her voice inching towards teasing, and Clark couldn’t help the glitter in his eye at that look, “we’ve abandoned normalcy a long time ago.” She looked up at his lips, lingering for a moment. “I’d say since our first kiss, but it’s been longer than that, hasn’t it? Maybe since the day we met.”

Clark grinned. The day they met. One of the best days of his life. It was only supposed to be another save in Metropolis, but then his eyes had met hers—her soft, caring, beautiful eyes. Just like they’re doing now. Locked on each other as if nothing else mattered. And maybe it didn’t. With his family by his side, he could get through anything—even the Kryptonite that seemed to be making a home in his chest at every reminder of what could go wrong.

He leaned forward, kissing her gently on the lips, letting the memory wrap around him like a warm embrace. “You’re right.”

She poked him on the chest, right where the sensation lay. “And don’t you ever forget it!”

A whiff of almost-ready cookies crossed his nose, reminding him what he was in the middle of. “You’re heading to the office, right? I’ll clean up here and finish the cookies.” He pulled away from her hold, even if he really didn’t want to, and made his way back to the oven.

She nodded, then headed to the kitchen table to grab her car keys, each click of her heels a countdown to Clark being back alone. “I won’t stay too long, but I should take a look at those new files we dug up on EnerCorp.” 

EnerCorp. His shoulders went right back to tensing, and a dull pressure filled his chest. That word was yet another reminder that although he wanted to forget about it, wanted to just enjoy the holidays…he couldn’t. 

She glanced at the oven with a knowing smirk, and Clark caught her devious look. “Wouldn’t mind a special delivery of some frosted cookies, though.”

He laughed, then glanced through the oven’s glass window. The cookies were almost done. With a quick sniff, Clark estimated only a few more minutes, although…it did feel a bit hot in here. Did he set the oven to the right temperature? He shook his head. It didn’t really matter—the slowly darkening brown edges were proof enough that they were cooking perfectly. “Don’t even have to ask.”

“Oh, I know.” At the front door now, she said, “See you soon.”

“Love you,” he said. She said it quickly back, and then she was gone.

The song of her love only lingered for a moment before plunging the kitchen back to quiet. 

Back to being alone.

Clark let out a heavy sigh, then took up his task of cleaning. He put away all the baking supplies and placed all used bowls into the sink, then wiped the counters with wide strokes of a clean washcloth. After, he took his time scrubbing each dish, getting into all the nooks and crannies of every utensil. His shoulders ached from the repetitive movement, but he carried on, seeing the end in sight. 

But then he glanced down at the floor. Blots of flour were sprinkled everywhere.  

He smiled as he looked at the mess. 

The price he had to pay for delicious cookies.

A quick wash of his hands later, he then grabbed the broom, humming softly to the tune of ‘Jingle Bells’, letting each sweep match the beat. But in between verses, the silence pressed on. It was too quiet for a day like today, where so much had happened just the day before. He just wished he could do more. Cookies weren’t enough—he knew that. But how does he stop everything bad from happening? He couldn’t protect his kids from that anymore. They were sucked into it just as much as Clark was now. 

And he hated it. 

Hated what that meant for him, his wife, and his sons. He just wanted to spend time with them without a thunderstorm of a worrying future clouding his mind, but right now, it seemed like that future was inevitable. Like he had no control. 

He shook his head, trying to drown out the worrying thoughts.

Trying, of course, and failing.

He swept in the direction of the floorboards, watching with more focus than he needed to on the dust and flour collecting into a little pile. Just when he turned around to sweep the other side of the island, a wave of dizziness overtook him, blurring the world around him. He paused in his place, trying to gather his bearings. What was that?

He shook his head, letting the dizziness clear. Maybe a fluke…?

Clark went back to sweeping, focusing on the corners, the flour dusting around him. He coughed once, almost like the flour had gotten into his lungs. 

Wait. Coughed?

That wasn’t even the first time in the last half hour.

That was the second.

He swallowed, letting the feeling pass. It was fine. This was fi—

He stumbled. 

His body slammed into the kitchen counter, barely catching himself with his free hand. He took in a large inhale on instinct, but that was a huge mistake. Dizziness smacked into all his senses, sending the room into a blur. What was happening? It was like he was tumbling down, but he knew he hadn’t moved an inch. He tightened every muscle, gripping the broom like that would somehow steady him. The wooden handle groaned under his grasp, reminding him it was no use here. Silence fell apart, perforated by his heavy breathing. His forced breathing. 

Tight. It felt tight. Pressure. Thunderous, booming, pressure. He gripped his chest, like that could somehow fix this.

Was he even getting oxygen? 

Heavy breathing turned into pants.

Triple heartbeat banged in his ears.

Dread curled deep in his gut.

Pain crept into his lungs with his next inhale, and he gasped out a groan as the searing in his chest escalated, stabbing him with what felt like lightning. 

It spread. He could feel it in every cell, taking over everything they were made for—Strength. Invulnerability. 

Weak. Vulnerable.

The words echoed in his brain, choking him.

He coughed. 

Again. 

Again. 

Again. 

Again.

His grip on the broom loosened.

It slammed against the kitchen island, reverberating so loudly he wondered how the thunderstorm found him so soon. 

Not just found him, but was within him. Building in his lungs. No, taking over his lungs.

A single day. He wanted a single day. A bright, clear, beautiful day.

Instead, a hurricane.

The broom crashing off the kitchen island and banging onto the floor was the last thing he heard before he joined it on the ground, everything shocking to a cold, silent, rainy black.

𖠰𖠰𖠰

“Dad!” Clark heard someone say, but he wasn’t sure who. In fact, he could barely make out the sound of anything. What was that harsh beeping? That crackling? 

He couldn’t see. 

Blackness swallowed him whole. 

Clark’s eyes stayed squeezed shut as he took in a deep breath, but that just reminded him that his lungs were on fire. Like a blade ripping through his lungs. Wooziness overtook him as agony filled him. His body tried absorbing the shock, making his stomach roil. Clark kept his mouth squeezed shut, too, but he could feel the urge to cough build back up again.

He couldn’t cough. He couldn't. If he did, it would hurt.

He felt something on his arm. Tight. Gripping.

“D—!” A pull. “G— Up!” A harder tug. “Now—!” 

Now? 

What did it mean?

He couldn’t parse any of the sounds out, like he was drowning underwater. Muffled and distorted. 

His lungs were drowning, too.

Clark opened his eyes, trying not to breathe, but it was still too hard to see anything, like a shadow had overtaken his vision and dragged him underground. He could see something was there—a flickering of red and yellow—but the shapes were blurs.

“I got him, Jon! Get outta here!” he heard someone say, but it sounded so far away. Was that… was that Jordan?

Clark felt himself get lifted, sending another wave of dizziness. The jostle was enough to loosen Clark’s grip on his lungs, sending him into a fresh coughing fit. Zaps shocked through his chest with every forced inhale—inhales he had been trying so hard to prevent.

It hurt. It hurt.

Between each cough, he could feel himself being moved…by something. 

Someone?

Yes, someone. Jordan was…lifting him?

He tried focusing, but the pain overtook all his thoughts. Now that he knew Jordan was there, he tried to smooth out his facial features and hold back the groan building in his throat. He couldn’t look like this in front of his sons…not now.

Suddenly, his back pressed onto a damp, hard surface, sending a fresh wave of cold into his skin, but he found he didn’t mind. The solidity behind his back was such a comfort that he almost passed out from relief alone. 

Several seconds later, he realized it was on the ground, but it wasn’t the familiar hardwood floors of the kitchen, but grass. Fresh, dewy grass. 

Clark nearly melted into it, his pounding heart relaxing with every beat.

Slowly, his vision started clearing. Blackness spotted into a bright blue sky. No shapes, just a clear, bright blue. Clark reveled in it as the blackness disappeared entirely, engulfing his entire field of vision in blue. 

That blue healed him, both body and soul. He couldn’t see it, but he knew the sun was right there, just out of view. He could feel it, in every single cell, powering him from the inside.

Maybe this was over… maybe—

He took in a breath without thinking. Clark couldn’t stop the groan this time as the feeling in his chest returned, and his ears started ringing like metal tearing apart.

“Dad?” 

Clark squinted as a blurry shape filled his vision, blocking some of the blue. “Jon?” His voice was rough, like it had been sucked of all moisture. He coughed again, trying to clear that dry feeling in his throat, only to taste copper and iron. 

“You okay?”

Was he okay? The aching in his chest was still there.

But… he found it was…better. 

The sun that was blasting on his body was definitely helping. But what had caused this in the first place?

A few more coughs left his lips before he managed to overpower all his instincts and take several deep breaths. Each breath got easier and easier and deeper and deeper as his cells repaired themselves from the inside out.

Jon leaned over him, frowning. Clark could see his frown so clearly now, it sent another—different—wave of pain through his chest. 

A reminder that this was a world that he forced onto his boys.

They shouldn’t even have to worry about him.

Yet here he was, sprawled on the ground, with worry deep on his son’s face.

Several breaths later, the pain subsided entirely. He was relieved that it was over, but still, the mystery lingered in his mind.

“I’m okay,” he eventually said, willing himself to prop himself on his elbows. He dug them into the ground, ensuring he wouldn’t fall over.

And the dizziness didn’t return. 

“I’m okay,” he said again, more confident this time.

“What happened?”

“I—” Clark shook his head, like it could clear his foggy brain. “I was baking the cookies.” As his senses started clearing and as the sun continued healing, he realized he smelled smoke. He whipped his head to look behind him, his eyes instantly landing on the house. His x-ray vision instinctively flared. Remnants of a fire filled his vision, but it looked contained now. In fact, he could see a light layer of ice around the oven. The countertops. The cabinets. The floor. “There was a fire?”

“The cookies were on fire,” Jon answered. “You were passed out in front of the oven.”

He turned back to face Jon. The pain in his lungs might be gone, but he still felt an unnatural ache pulsing in his chest. “I don’t know what happened…” 

And now that he was thinking about it, now that his head was clearer, the feeling felt familiar. Something that had happened recently—when he was exposed to that biochemical gas in 7734, the research and development lab General Lane had stood up to create kryptonite weapons. Against Superman. Were there lingering effects? Was it still in his system, even now?

Probably wasn’t a good thing if it was. But at least it wasn’t another unexplainable threat. Another Edge.

Jon offered a hand, and Clark didn’t hesitate to grab it. He pulled him up. A small wave of dizziness overtook him, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“There goes trying to cheer you two up with cookies,” Clark mumbled to himself. Louder, he said, “Where’s Jordan?”

“He was putting out the fire with that new super cool power of his,” Jon said, holding back a laugh, but it was short-lived. A moment later, his smile faded too, returning to that frown that Clark desperately wished Jon didn’t have to bear. “Shouldn’t we take you to like, Granddad or something?”

Clark placed a soft hand on Jon’s shoulder, trying his best to look genuine. “I’m feeling a lot better now.” Jon raised an eyebrow, so Clark added, “I promise I’ll go to the fortress if it comes back.”

A voice suddenly cut in from behind him, but Clark managed to hold back a startle. 

“Maybe this will help?” 

Clark turned around. Jordan was holding a white cardboard box, the top lined with plastic film, clear enough to see what was inside. Clark leaned over, looking in. 

Cookies.

Clark huffed out a laugh and took the box of a dozen cookies from Jordan’s hands. They smelled freshly baked, a mixture of sugar, oatmeal, and chocolate chip cookies filling his nose.

“And…” Jordan pulled something from behind him. A tub of green frosting and a container of red, black, gold, and white sprinkles. Clark gaped. Did Jordan really bring frosting so they could decorate the cookies…together? “Figured we could turn these into something a little more fun,” he shrugged, “when you feel better.” 

Clark stood there, shock stopping him from speaking, but he could feel his lips starting to twist into a smile. 

Before Clark could say anything, Jon snatched the two containers from Jordan. “I call dibs on making a cookie snowman!” he called, running towards the house.

“Hey! You always get to do that!” Jordan yelled, running after him. “It’s my turn!”

Clark’s smile grew, the love they had for each other filling his chest, replacing any lingering aches.

❅❅❅

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” Clark mumbled, staring at the kitchen. There was some lingering ice, the harsh scent of burned cookies, and still, that darn pile of flour on the floor, but it could’ve been worse.

It could’ve been way worse.

And something he could deal with cleaning up later. For now, he had cookies to decorate, and he wanted to think of nothing else.

Clark turned around and headed to the dining room. Jon and Jordan were already in their seats, throwing frosting at each other, and Clark couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. This was just what he needed after what had just happened—seeing his two boys happy was the best feeling in the world.

He pulled up a chair, and right when he did, he heard the front door creak open. He sat down and looked behind him, waiting for the love of his life to fill the entrance.

And then she did.

“Clark!” she said, eyes filled with worry. He swallowed thickly as he remembered why she was, but he tried his best not to think too deeply on it. She ran up to him, hunching over to get on his eye level, and placed both hands on his face like she couldn’t believe he was actually okay.

“I’m fine,” he reassured, “I promise.” He grabbed her hands, gently moving them off his cheeks. He kissed each of them once before releasing. She looked at him for several more seconds, then huffed, relief evident in her shoulders.

She turned her sights to the boys. Clark could tell the moment she realized what they were doing—her eyes sparkled, and she smiled even in the midst of worry. 

“Come join us,” Clark said, gesturing to the chair next to him. 

Lois rolled her eyes, but Clark could see the playfulness there. He knew they’d have to talk about what happened later, but for now…

He spun around in his chair, facing his boys. Lois joined him on his right and let out a playful laugh.

Jon took all three sugar cookies from the container and arranged them in front of him into the shape of a snowman. It didn’t look quite right with the cookies nearly the same size, but it didn’t matter. He grabbed one of the plastic knives Jordan must’ve bought, dipped it into the tub of green icing, and smeared it all over the cookies.

It was an absolute mess.

Jordan quickly joined him, first taking a chocolate chip cookie and then placing it on the table. He followed the same process: grabbing a knife, dipping it into the icing, and smearing it on.

“Don’t hog all the icing,” Jon cut in as Jordan swiped for more.

“I literally paid for it!”  

“With whose money? Huh?” Jon pointed his knife right at Jordan’s face.

Jordan’s head dipped, shoulders dropping. “Yours…”

“And…?” Jon said, probing for more. He wiggled his eyebrows like he had this in the bag.

“And…” Jordan started slowly, then he shot his head up. “I took care of the fire!”

“That doesn’t count, asshole!”

“Yes, it does!”

Clark and Lois laughed, watching the two of them continue their bantering. Clark pulled two cookies from the box and handed one over to Lois. 

She mouthed ‘thank you’ as she grabbed it from him, placing it onto the table.

While the boys were distracted, he took the icing from them and placed it between him and his wife. He coated his cookie with a thick, smooth layer. Once satisfied, he reached over to the center of the table, grabbing the sprinkles.

The sound was loud enough to pull all eyes on him.

“Dad’s opening the sprinkles,” Jordan said, looking over to Jon.

“He is,” Jon said, seeming to come to an agreement.

Oh no.

Both of them jumped out of their chair, and Clark stayed in his seat, watching the events unfold. He knew what was coming, but he didn’t even try to avoid it. They both dipped a heavy finger into the frosting and smeared it all over his face. He laughed so loud it filled the entire house, wall to wall and floor to ceiling.

They hadn’t done that to him in years.

“I just realized you could’ve dodged this all along,” Jordan said, stopping with his finger in the frosting container again. Jon paused in his tracks too, processing what Jordan had just said.

“Yeah…” Clark admitted. They were right—he could’ve avoided it every single time, year after year after year. But they knew the secret now…

Were they upset with him?

He looked at Lois, who just swiped a finger on his cheek and then licked it. Her attempt to calm him, without saying a single word. ‘You’re still the same Clark,’ that look said.

But still, the sinking feeling in his chest returned, filling him to the brim with regret. He didn’t necessarily regret hiding the secret for fourteen years, but he did regret how much he had to lie to make it happen.

“And here I thought we were always surprising you,” Jon mumbled, a hint of his frown starting to return. 

Suddenly, Jordan’s gloomy eyes turned devious, reminding Clark much of his wife. Something within Clark relaxed seeing that look.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jordan said, sitting back down and grabbing his knife again.

Jon joined him back at his seat, muffling a laugh as he agreed. “You’re right.” He looked at Clark, now sporting the same devious look as his twin. “You’re gonna train,” he said, still talking to his brother, “and then you’re gonna surprise even Superman.”

“Hell yeah I am!” Jordan said. They bumped fists then started laughing.

Clark couldn’t hold back a smile. Despite everything, the boys were already starting to tease about it. Relief spread through his body, making him feel more lightweight than he had in a while.

Even for a man who could fly.

Jordan and Jon went back to their frosting and started adding sprinkles. Clark didn’t know what Jordan was making, but he was looking forward to finding out. Jon started adding a nose, eyes, and buttons with sprinkles to his Snowman cookie. Clark, on the other hand, worked with Lois to make matching cookies, sprinkles forming into the shape of Christmas Tree ornaments. 

As Clark was putting the finishing touches on his, Jordan rubbed his hands together before clapping once.

“All done,” he said, playing with his sticky green fingers.

“What’d you make?” Clark asked.

Jordan grinned, then lifted his cookie.

It was unmistakable. In red sprinkles surrounded by gold was the Superman crest. The ’S’ was so perfect, Clark wondered if Jordan had been practicing.

His eyes went watery. It only felt like yesterday when Jordan didn’t even like Superman. 

Clark paused as he stared at every single sprinkle, letting the feeling fill him. After a moment, he glanced back up, and Jordan’s cheeks went red.

“I… uh…” Jordan stammered.

Clark cleared his throat. “It’s perfect.”

“Yeah?” Jordan asked, perking up. “I know how much this means to you…” he glanced back at the cookie, “And now…me and Jon are a part of it, y’know?”

Clark swallowed, unsure what to say. The air grew quiet, but in that peaceful, loving way. It was everything he had hoped—Jordan and Jon really weren’t mad. Even if they had every right to be.

Clark didn’t know what he did to deserve this.

“Well. Who’s gonna eat it?” Jon said, breaking the silence. Lois burst in her adorable laughter at the words.

“Well, obviously Superman himself,” Jordan giggled.

“Let’s split it,” Clark cut in. It was something they hadn’t done in years, but this was his chance to bring it back.

Jordan nodded with a huge smile, then reached to the center of the table, offering the cookie to the three of them.

Jon held onto one side, then Lois, then Clark. The four of them grasped it tightly between their index fingers and thumbs. 

“This symbol isn’t just mine. Not anymore,” Clark said, flicking his gaze between the three of them. Lois had a soft, proud smile on her face, and the twins both stared at him with large grins. “On three.”

The three of them nodded, and Clark began the countdown. “Three,” Clark started. Then everyone joined, “Two. One!”

They all pulled at the same time, splitting the cookies into a crumbling mess. It was always random who would get the bigger piece, but when everyone showed off what they had grabbed, Clark wasn’t at all surprised that they were all the same size.

Jon and Jordan pressed their cookies together as if toasting, then popped their quarter of a cookie in their mouth, both humming as they chewed.

Lois and Clark did the same.

The frosting hit his tongue first—smooth and sugary. The chocolate in his mouth melted, and a smile grew on his face. He swallowed the delicious mixture of chocolate, sugar, and love.

Cookies. 

Maybe they were magic.

…Or maybe the magic was his family.

Chapter Text

“It felt like that gas. What Sam had developed in 7734,” Clark started, leaning against their bed, hands palm-first into the comforter. Lois stood behind him and rubbed his back, seeming to sense how tight his muscles were. 

But even with how tight he was, and even with how difficult it was earlier today, he was still so relieved. 

It was all worth it. 

Spending time with his sons was worth anything in the world.

“But why would you be exposed to it in the kitchen?” Lois said, thumbs digging into his shoulders now. 

Clark let out a hum in time with her hands rubbing along his neck. It was a good question, and one he still had himself. All he had been doing was cleaning; surely that wouldn’t have triggered anything? 

Dread bubbled up in his chest. Everything had escalated so quickly. One moment, cleaning up, getting ready to see his family’s excited faces at freshly baked cookies. 

The next…the floor.

“Maybe I’m still not healed from the first exposure?” Clark guessed, but he didn’t feel convinced. He had already confirmed that the prior exposure was out of his system. But still, it felt…similar.

“You already recovered from that.” 

Clark turned around, facing her. She instantly pulled into his chest. “We don’t know anything about what that stuff does,” Clark mumbled into her hair, his face falling close to hers.

“Go to the fortress in the morning,” Lois said. Her voice was clear-cut. No room for debate. Clark sighed. She looked up at him and continued, “And bring Jordan.”

“Okay,” Clark conceded. “But afterwards, I’m taking the boys to North Carolina.”

“What?”

“A little trip. To a warehouse,” he said, smirking. He couldn’t hide how excited he was for this, even with everything else going on, trying to put a damper on his mood.

She rolled her eyes and then smiled. “Fine. But it better be for a good reason.”

“You’ll see.”

❆❆❆

The next morning, Clark walked with heavy steps down the hallway to Jordan’s room and knocked softly on his door. He could hear Jon inside too, but he tried not listening in. He had already learned that lesson, and he had no intention on breaking his promise. Not now. Not ever.

“Come in,” Jordan yelled from behind the door, and Clark twisted the doorknob and entered the room. Jon leaned back on a beanbag while Jordan sat upright in bed, both with controllers in hand. Clark glanced at the TV—Injustice 2, paused.

“Grab a coat,” Clark said softly, trying to hide his worry. As much as he tried to not let things affect him, he was still worried about what Jor-El would say. Or detect. Worse, if his boys were affected…he wasn’t sure what he’d do. “We’re going to the fortress today. Then doing a quick stop after that.”

Clark tried not to notice Jordan flinch, but it was hard not to.

“It wasn’t really a pleasant experience last I was there,” Jordan said, voice low. He jumped out of bed, meeting Clark near the door. He grabbed one of the winter coats that were hanging on the wall. 

Clark didn’t need the reminder. He could still hear Jordan’s screams in the back of his head. Time had slowed in that moment; Clark could practically see every bit of Kryptonite being burned from Jordan’s lungs, even now.

Watching his son go through that…

“It’ll be quick,” Clark reassured. He frowned, remembering he had said something similar to Jordan before he had to go through that pain. Was he even being truthful right now? Clark cut off the thoughts. He needed to stay focused. Optimistic. Positive. Like everyone expected Superman to be. “Plus, I want Jon to get checked, too. Just in case.”

Jon looked up at him, head tilting. “Me?”

“Do you have another twin named Jon that I don’t know about?” Clark laughed, pulling the extra winter coat off Jordan’s wall and throwing it over to Jon. Jon caught it, eyes still wide and jaw slack. 

Clark could understand the surprise, though. With the number of times Clark and Jordan had gone to the fortress, Jon hadn’t come. Clark didn’t mean to exclude him, but that cookie reminded him it was a mistake—a mistake he would be correcting right away. Jon was part of the super family, too.

“Alright,” Clark said, “meet the two of you outside.”

The two of them nodded in unison, then scurried past him, probably to grab a quick snack before heading out. 

Clark was a lot slower to leave the room, though. He still felt a bit… off, even if he couldn’t define it. It was a prickly sensation screaming danger, even if no matter how much he looked and listened, there wasn’t a threat. 

At least not right now.

By the time Clark climbed down all the steps, the boys were already outside. Clark stepped out the front door and joined them, watching Jordan shove a Lucky Charms cereal bar in his mouth and Jon laughing at the mess he was making.

“You two ready?” Clark asked, straightening out his winter coat. He slapped his arms slightly as if he could wake them up from the frosty numbness crawling across them. It was a bit chilly today too, wasn’t it? Not cold enough for snow, but cold enough for Clark to notice.

Jon nearly bounced in his spot, while Jordan stood there, nodding. Clark walked up to them, twisting around to stand between them. He placed an arm under theirs and…jumped.

The air rushing past his face and the sun beaming on his skin seemed to dull that harrowing feeling in his chest. Or maybe it was the giant grin on Jon and Jordan’s faces as Clark flew them through the sky.

They landed at the fortress only minutes later. Jon nearly ran inside the moment his feet touched the thickened snow, but Jordan stayed by his side, huddled into the neck of his coat, hesitation pressing hard on his shoulders.

Clark gently bumped Jordan’s shoulder. Jordan tilted his head up to him, lips in a tight line. Clark gave him a soft smile. ‘I’m always here for you,’ he tried to say with that smile, even if he knew he couldn’t protect him from everything.

“Let’s go,” Clark said, gesturing towards the fortress. 

Jordan hesitantly nodded, and the two of them made their way inside, side by side.

Once inside, Clark’s eyes caught on Jon, who was running through the fortress in excitement. Jordan, though…Clark could nearly feel the nerves coming from him, especially with the way his heavy breaths fogged the air in front of them. Such a difference from the bright eyes Jon was sporting, still viewing the fortress as the coolest thing he had ever seen.

Clark entered the heart of the fortress and pressed his crystal into the central hub. 

Click!

Suddenly, Jor-El’s voice echoed into the chamber, causing Jon to pause in his tracks.“Hello, Kal-El.” Before Clark could greet back, Jor-El continued, “Kal-El, you are—”

But Clark didn’t hear the rest. A high-pitched sound filtered into his ears—the one that told him people were in danger. He needed to listen. He tilted his head, shutting his other senses down and focusing his hearing on the source, completely tuning out everything around him.

There! Was that a…fire? No, not just a fire… a building collapsing? Or about to collapse?

“—at’s wrong?” Jon asked, jaw tight.

Clark placed a hand on each of their shoulders, and both their eyes snapped to his. They seemed to understand instantly, so Clark quickly said, “Be right back.”

He jumped into the air, flying through the fortress and into the atmosphere, changing into his suit in the same breath. He floated there, only for a split second, gravity waiting patiently for him to return as his cape suspended around him.

His ears honed in on the exact location. Somewhere in California. 

The sounds of firetrucks and ambulances pulled him towards the area in a blink. He arrived only seconds later, but the moment he landed, the heat instantly pressed hard on his chest. But he didn’t hesitate. X-ray vision scanned the area. A few people were still inside, at the end of the third floor of what looked like an apartment building.

Hadn’t collapsed yet.

Still time.

Rushing in with a blur, he flew through the open entrance, flying up the stairwell to the third floor. He blasted the door open to a hallway, and the heart of the fire greeted him, spiraling outwards in a wave right towards him. He watched the fire expand in slow motion, its orange tendrils curling the walls and the ceiling, crawling at him like it had been waiting for him to open those doors and give it fresh oxygen. 

The fire seemed to laugh at him as it grew into a torturous wall of flames, sucking in the oxygen like it had been starving.

But the fire wasn’t the only one that could use the air around him.

Clark inhaled hard, preparing to freeze the air and expel it. Right when his lungs were at capacity, right when he was ready to stifle this fire out with a single exhale, a muscle in his chest tightened.

That sharp, excruciating pain returned, sending him into a fresh coughing fit, his frozen breath half freezing his throat and half freezing the ground below him, exactly the opposite of where he wanted to aim for. 

He grew dizzy at the sensation in his lungs, his throat, his chest. The red fire turned blurry, twisting and morphing with the darkened smoke. He tripped forward, legs and feet betraying him; his palms instinctively tried to catch him, but he found they were too weak. 

And too late.

He slammed right onto the floor.

The floor that was slick with ash—the floor that was scorching—his shoulder ramming hard first.

His head to follow.

A scream filled his ears. 

He tried to hone in on it—anything to keep his mind off the pain erupting in his skull.

Where was that scream coming from?

Recognition sank its teeth into his chest, hard.

He nearly choked as he realized the screaming was coming from himself.

He tried to cut off his hearing. He didn’t need to hear that. He didn’t need to hear anything. He coughed, but ash kept entering his lungs with every breath, now filled half with ice and half with ash. His shoulder burned. His head burned. 

Why was he burning? 

Why couldn’t he get up?

Pressing his hands hard into the tile, he ignored the pain blistering into his palms. He ignored everything. 

Nothing else mattered right now. Not when people needed his help.

Shaking arms managed to lift him off the ground. Eyes and throat clamped shut. He didn’t need air. He didn’t need to see. He already knew everything he needed to know. 

He stood up half limped facing down the hallway. Facing his current enemy. He lifted his arms upwards, parallel to the ground. Then, with everything he had, he clapped his hands together, creating a wind so strong the fire on the floor cut off like a light switch.

With the roar no longer trying to demand he listen, Clark looked around the floor, letting his senses flood back on. His jaw tightened with the sensation, but he pressed on. One foot dragging in front of the other. 

X-ray vision took him to a room on the far side, where an older woman and man huddled in the corner, passed out.

Clark tried not to think about passing out himself. He couldn’t.

“Hello?” Clark said, but his voice barely carried. His lungs were tight, burning, and frozen at the same time. He knew he needed to get this fixed. Soon. Very soon. But he had to help these two first.

He’d never abandon anyone.

Not on his watch.

“Hello?” he tried again. It wasn’t any better. There was no air passing through his throat, and his vocal cords were frozen solid.

He didn’t try again. He used his last bit of energy to make it to the other side of the room, which Clark now realized used to be a studio apartment. He crossed the threshold quickly, even with the sensation in his head telling him to stop. To lie down. To do anything but this. 

But he didn’t listen to that. 

He picked both of them up, doing his best to throw them over his shoulder, then headed down the stairs.

It took a lot longer than he wanted. Each step taking every last remaining ounce of energy away from him.

At the bottom of the staircase, firefighters quickly took the two from him, shuffling them off to the ambulance just outside the building.

They said thank you—he thought, anyway—but his chest was growing tighter. He needed to go.

“Superman?” A firefighter said, his worried voice cutting into his hearing. “Are you…okay? You look…unwell.”

Clark didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He nodded, then, with one final look to ensure everyone was safe, he jumped into the air, flying right to the fortress.

Halfway through the flight, his vision started to blacken, but he shook his head, fighting it off.

He had to get there as quickly as he could. He knew that. But the closer he got, the more worried he became. What if this wasn’t the kryptonite gas? What if it was, and there was no way to fix it?

He let his muscle memory push him forward, and against everything, he saw the fortress under him only a moment later.

Crashing at the entrance, ice cut into his cheek and his chest. Cape flailed on top of him. 

Before he could worry if the boys would hear him, Jordan suddenly appeared next to him, Jon quickly behind.

“Dad? Dad!” Jordan said. He dropped to his knees and pulled Clark to him.

A moment later, Clark was lifted onto his shoulder, and Jordan took them inside the fortress.

When had his boy gotten so strong?

“You were right, he’s definitely sick,” Jordan said hurriedly to Jor-El, dropping Clark softly on the ground. Clark would’ve groaned if he could. But he couldn’t. His lungs were so tight and full with ice and ash that they couldn’t even move.

“We’ll need to treat him,” Jor-El said matter-of-factly. “The Kryptonite is embedded in his lungs. Every deep breath only dug it deeper. Any longer and it would’ve started absorbing directly into his cells.”

“What would’ve happened then?!” Jordan said, voice loud and panicked. 

“Well, at that point it’s irreversible.”

Clark’s heart sped up.

“Can we get on with it?” Jon cut in. “Dad, Jor-El said this isn’t going to be pleasant.”

He already knew this, but something about his sons having to watch him…

That was worse than the pain. 

“Do it,” Clark tried to mouth out, but no sound came out.

Jordan pulled Jon away, and then it began.

𖠰𖠰𖠰

People thought being Superman meant he was indestructible. He knew he wasn’t. Far from it, really. The number of times he was seriously hurt was far too many. And now that he has a family, now that Jordan and Jon knew exactly what Clark was up to each and every day…it was different.

It wasn’t something he could hide behind a cape and a suit, a world that was separated. They were combined, now. Truly and fully combined. The people he cared most about were in both worlds, bridging them together even through the thick wall of secret identities.

This wasn’t even the first time the boys had saved him. 

It’s only been a few months, and they had already saved him from John Henry Irons, back when the man had repeatedly slammed him with that kinetic hammer of his, while Clark was bathed in that awful red solar light.

Clark didn’t acknowledge it back then. How horrible it was that he already needed his sons to save him. How his sons were dragged not just into the fun that could be Superman and superpowers and flying… but the torture. The torturous fact that it was extremely dangerous. That Clark really was risking his life out there, even if the average person didn’t quite know that.

But they knew it now.

And how he wished they didn’t.

He wished they didn’t have to in the first place.

It was all his fault.

It was all his fault.

The thoughts burned into him in time with each bright red beam of light coming from the fortress, searing right into his cells with hot, painful waves. 

He had experienced this pain before, but now with Jon and Jordan here, it was indescribable. 

He could feel the pain starting to climb. He was almost on the verge of screaming, but then…

“Dad,” Jordan said, grabbing tightly on his left hand. He looked at Clark with tight eyes, but Clark recognized that look. It was like…looking in a mirror. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Jon said, grabbing his other hand. “Almost done.”

Clark clenched his jaw hard, squeezed his eyes shut, and let the red beams destroy every last bit of Kryptonite within him.

The last thought he had before passing out… was that he was so happy he wasn’t alone. 

❅❅❅

Clark blinked a few times, bright yellow light flooding his retinas. Each sense drifted back to him, and the smell of deep cold and dead wood was almost…comforting. Awareness hit him as he realized he was outside, propped on bright white snow. His entire body was in the perfect spot to be bathing in that wonderful light.

He lay there, soaking in it. He didn’t realize how sick he had been during the last twenty-four hours until the kryptonite was burned out of him.

He felt strong again. In control.

A burst of laughter pulled him out of his thoughts. He pulled himself up to sitting, and his eyes caught on Jon and Jordan, running across the hardened snow, kicking up a spray of white with every step.

Jon seemed to be aiming at Jordan with… what was that?

He pulled his arm back, like he was about to throw a baseball.

A white, fluffy ball spiraled into the air, landing right on Jordan’s head, puffing out into a million pieces. Jordan frowned, but in the way that he was impressed that Jon had hit him at all.

“Got you!” Jon yelled, then he ran away from Jordan, narrowly missing Jordan’s own attempt at throwing a snowball. 

And what was that? That Jon had just run past?

Clark stood up, instantly thankful that there was no dizziness at all. He headed towards the small chunk of snow, standing a few feet tall.

He dodged a snowball heading by his head, and walked around it to finally see what it was.

Two rocks for eyes. A small branch for a nose, another smaller branch for a mouth, and another two for arms. Three more rocks were placed vertically in the middle, representing buttons.

It was in rough shape. Jagged edges, the base was too small, and it was at risk of falling.

But it was unmistakable.

A snowman.

Something they haven’t built in many years.

Jon stopped behind him, huffing out a laugh. “Not too shabby, huh? Might be out of practice, but given what materials we had...”

“It’s perfect,” Clark said, still focusing right on it.

Jordan popped next to him, laughing. “It’s gonna fall over.”

“Then we rebuild it,” Jon said, rolling his eyes. 

Right on cue, the entire thing fell apart, and the twins laughed. 

Clark couldn’t stop himself from laughing with them.

He grabbed a piece of the fallen snow and played with it in his hands, smoothing it out.

“I’ll show you two how to make a snowman that’ll last,” Clark said, and then his eyes sharpened on Jon. “But first, it looks like you have a severe lack of snow on your head.”

Jon tilted his head, then widened his eyes. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

Clark threw the ball of snow in his hand, and it landed right on Jon’s head. Jon froze there, jaw slack.

“No way,” Jon eventually said. “Oh, it’s so on, old man.”

☆☆☆

Clark wiped bits of ice off his coat with a huge smile on his face. He was feeling incredible, and after a fun snowball fight, a brand new snowman (probably the best they’ve ever made, if he was being honest), and confirmation from Jor-El that the three of them were perfectly healthy, it was time for the last activity of the day.

Clark gazed up at the sun and listened briefly for the pulse of sound coming across the world, giving him an approximate time. 

Late afternoon for the East Coast.

“Alright, you two, time to go. We have an appointment.” He placed a hand on each of their shoulders, ready to take off.

“Appointment?” Jordan asked, head tilting.

“A fun one, I promise,” Clark said. Without any more hesitation, he gripped their shoulders and took off.

The flight was a lot smoother this time now that he felt so much better, and he landed the three of them in a far-off alley outside the warehouse in North Carolina.

Letting go of their shoulders, he straightened his coat, then helped blow the remaining snow from Jordan’s hair, causing Jordan to laugh in embarrassment. 

When they were ready, he said, “This way.” He directed them around the corner, the large warehouse sprawling in front of them. It was an unlabeled white building, which would’ve been suspicious if Clark hadn’t already vetted this place out, but he knew this was exactly what he was looking for.

A quick flash of his x-ray vision showed Clark where he could find the owner and a front desk area. The boys stayed by his side as Clark opened the door, and a loud Christmas tune blasted throughout the warehouse, announcing their presence. The boy’s eyes caught on the numerous posters on the walls of various past Christmas events from across the world. Clark went to join, but the moment he did, he heard the sound of the owner approaching.

“Good afternoon,” the owner said, walking into the lobby.

“Hi. Emil? My name is Clark. We spoke on the phone.” Clark offered his hand, and Emil nodded before shaking it.

“Ah! Clark Kent,” he said, eyes glistening now behind his glasses. “I have just the thing for you. Come right this way.”

Jon and Jordan looked at him, but Clark shrugged and stayed on Emil’s tail.

“Now, these are the best on the market,” Emil rambled, weaving them through the main warehouse, where there were piles and piles of extremely large cardboard boxes. “Made from proprietary material from S.T.A.R. Labs, don’t you know? You’ve heard of S.T.A.R. Labs, yeah?”

Clark tilted his head. “Never heard of it.”

“No matter,” he said quickly, gesturing to continue. Clark ducked under some boxes that cut into the narrow walkway, Jon and Jordan staying closely behind. “This may just be a fun side job for me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to use the best materials out there. Hurricane? No problem. Tornado? No problem. Hail, snow, rain, sleet, it doesn’t matter. It’ll stand strong. Nothing can tear it. Not even Superman.”

Jon stifled a laugh, and Clark gave him a look. But Clark couldn’t hide the smile on his face either.

“Okay, here we are,” Emil said, stopping them in front of a giant cardboard box. It was easily fifteen feet tall, and Clark could only imagine it was quite heavy, especially with the various forklifts scattered around the warehouse. “This should be exactly what you’re looking for. I can get my guys to load it up into your truck.”

“Uh…” Clark mumbled. “I can handle it. I’ve got…people. Here.” Clark smiled—the dorky one Lois had said always wins people over. “Right now.”

Emil raised an eyebrow and gazed at Clark over his glasses. He huffed, then shrugged. “Fine, then. Saves me a call.” He waved his hand away, then walked away, taking another path out. “Call for me if you need anything.”

“Smooth,” Jon said under his breath, but Clark chose to ignore him, even if he was hiding a smile.

Once out of earshot, Jordan stepped up behind him, looked at the box, then back at Clark. He whispered, “What is it?”

Clark held back a laugh. “For you two to open when I get it home.”

“You going to just...” Jon lowered his voice, “Fly it home?”

“The delivery fees were more expensive than the actual item,” Clark said. “Be back in two. Keep Emil distracted.”

The two of them huffed out a laugh while Clark did a quick scan with his x-ray vision. With a clear pathway and no one to see him, he lifted the box from the bottom and super-speeded it back home, dropping it off right next to the barn.

He didn’t wait. He flew back to the warehouse, landing right where he left off.

“Whoa,” Jon said, looking at him. “That was fast.”

Jordan punched him in the shoulder, smiling. “Did you forget who he was?”

“No! We just…didn’t even get to conspire.”

Clark laughed. “Let’s head out. I want to see your faces when we open it.”

❆❆❆

Jon and Jordan stared at the massive amount of brown tarp-looking material in front of them. Now laid out to the side of the barn, it had no obvious tells of what it was, but Clark could see the look on their faces once they figured it out.

“No way,” Jon eventually said, eyes wide.

“He really did it,” Jordan agreed, staring at the ground, mouth open.

“How do we inflate it?” Jon kept his eyes focused below him. It was gigantic, and Clark was nearly bouncing on his feet.

“There’s machines for that. But I didn’t buy it,” Clark said. Jordan looked up at him, then shook his head. “What? It was expensive!”

“You bought a giant inflatable but not the machine to inflate the inflatable?” Jon asked.

Clark smiled, then placed a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “This guy is gonna inflate it.”

“What?!”

“With your super breath!” Clark said.

“I don’t think freezing this material is a great idea,” Jordan mumbled, now looking at the size again, clearly thinking he couldn’t do it.

“No ice breath. Just air,” Clark continued. “Look.” He took in a deep breath, not letting it cool, and blew hard across the property. The distant rows of corn ruffled, leaves whipped into the air, and a flock of birds flew off into the distance.

And…no pain at all at the action. A piece of him relaxed with that realization.

He turned to Jordan, who was bright-eyed. “One or two good breaths and that should be enough. Plus, if you accidentally get frost in there, Emil did say it was Superman-proof.”

Jon huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“Give it a try. Lois’ll be back in a minute, and I want this to be up before then.”

“Okay, let’s do it!” Jordan said. He found where the air would enter, and gripped it in his hand. 

“Deep breath. Your lungs can hold more than you think.”

Jordan inhaled, then blew.

…Just for nothing to happen.

But he didn’t give up.

He tried again, and this time, he was able to get the entire inflatable filled in a single breath.

Clark grinned widely. It was gigantic. Taller than the barn itself, over forty feet, a giant reindeer inflatable now stood tall in front of them.

He hasn’t seen that look on his boys’ faces since Clark first carried a truck in front of them—into the air.

Speaking of the truck, Lois arrived, then parked it in front of the house. She hopped out of it and walked straight to Clark, wonder filling her features. She didn’t even turn around to close the door.

“This is what you had in mind?” Lois said as the boys ran off… now climbing the side of the reindeer. 

“Boys!” Clark said, raising a hand, but then he lowered it, letting them continue. They’d be fine—they weren’t children anymore, were they? 

Plus…he was Superman.

“Sorry,” Clark answered Lois, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. 

“No,” Lois shook her head, “Don’t be sorry. They’ve been wanting this for so long.”

“I know,” Clark said. “And now with us living here…”

“We finally had the space,” Lois finished for him. “They needed this.”

“I’m thinking of taking them around the world to see various Christmas celebrations,” Clark said. He looked down at her, locking eyes. “Would you like to come? Perhaps we can start in Italy.”

A smile grew on her face. “Sounds like a wonderful family tradition.”

He smiled, then gave her a soft kiss on the lips.

Pulling apart, she then raised her eyebrows. “Oh! Clark, don’t go into the kitchen. Sam will be here later with some people to clean it.”

“What?”

“Remember two days ago? When Kyle and Emily had come…”

Hard to forget. He swallowed a lump in his throat and felt his fist start to clench at the memory.

“I found out why you were sick in the kitchen. Sam had released kryptonite gas to take them down,” she said. 

“In our house?!”

“You know he didn’t have a choice,” Lois said. “He…he saved us. I just wish he had told us what that was. Ensured it was taken care of before you even stepped foot back inside.”

“You telling me I was sweeping up particles of kryptonite? And then inhaled it?” Clark seethed, anger bubbling in his chest.

“He thought it would dissipate,” Lois frowned. “Obviously, he doesn’t know a thing about those experiments. I will be talking to him, Clark.”

“He’s lucky there’s no long-term effects,” Clark gritted out. 

“He’s very lucky,” she agreed. She looked up, eyes catching on the boys, now sitting on top of the reindeer. She nodded up to them. “For now, all that matters is that you’re safe. And that they’re safe.”

Clark looked up, seeing their smiles. It simmered away all the anger seeing them up there, as they enjoyed the view from tens of feet up.

His family.

The most important thing in the world.

“You’re right.”

And he’ll never forget it.

𖠰𖠰𖠰

The next day, in the (confirmed clean) kitchen, Clark cracked an egg into a bowl, then grabbed a spoon to mix all the ingredients together. He hummed in tune to Lois as she sang Christmas songs, bouncing around between ‘Jingle Bells’ and ‘Frosty the Snowman’. 

Next to him. 

Not alone.

A huge smile crossed his face as he started mixing.

“Got any more chocolate chips?” Clark said to Lois.

“There’s a little bit more in the bag,” she started. She paused, glanced down at the empty counter, then looked back up at Clark.

She shrugged with hands empty.

Now where did the chocolate chips go…?

Clark looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Jon and Jordan preparing their own batch of cookies at the kitchen table. But they weren’t there. Instead, Jordan stood on the other side of the room, metal bowl in hand, while Jon stood on the opposite side, holding the bag of chocolate chips—the one Lois had been looking for.

Clark stifled a laugh as Lois noticed too.

“Now,” Jon said, stretching the muscles in his neck, then shaking out his shoulders. He focused straight on Jordan, then said, “There’s something very important we need to do.”

“How about this,” Clark said, pausing his mixing. “For every chocolate chip you land, I’ll take you to another city across the world to see their Christmas festivities.”

Jordan’s eyes grew wide, excitement nearly escaping him in waves. “Really?”

“Really,” Clark said.

But Jon didn’t move. There was a twitch of a smile there, but his eyes were still sharp on Clark.

“What are you thinking, Jon?” 

Jon’s smile grew. “And what if I land them all?”

Clark laughed. He glanced over to his wife who gave him a knowing smile, then focused back on Jon. “Then I’ll take you to the North Pole.”

Jon rolled his eyes, but Jordan looked even more shocked.

“Why? Because that’s where your fortress is? What, you gonna show us more Kryptonian history stuff or something?”

Clark shook his head, his grin widening. “Hmm, close. But I meant the actual North Pole.”

“It’s not like you’re saying Santa exists,” Jordan said with a humored laugh. 

Because it was so ridiculous, wasn’t it? 

Clark shrugged as his smile widened. “Why don’t we find out?”

After several seconds of processing, Jon and Jordan’s face brightened. They nearly bounced in their spot before suddenly turning sharp with focus, getting into their positions as if this were the most important challenge of their life.

Jordan stood feet planted on the hardwood floor, metal bowl tight in his hands, pressed hard against his chest.

Jon pulled out the remaining chocolate chips from the bag, stuck a tongue out as he focused across the room, eyes trained on the metal bowl.

And then he threw.

Ding!

Ding!

Ding!