Hard Hitter (Clark Kent/Smallville)
Title: Hard Hitter
Author: RobynAdele0406
Fandom: Smallville
Character: Clark Kent
Character’s Age: Ten
Word Count: 1,033
Rating: PG
Summary: Clark learns not to throw stones in glass houses. Or anywhere else, for that matter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Clark Kent or any of the characters in this story. But oh, how one can wish!
Author's Notes: This is Clark at age ten. Feedback is greatly appreciated.
-----
Hard Hitter
It was the third time in as many days that he’d underestimated his strength. Whenever he let the fact that he was “special” slip his mind for even a second, he wound up damaging or destroying things around him. Luckily, it had only been happening at home, when he felt the most relaxed and unguarded, but it wasn’t always in the company of the same person.
-----
The first time it happened, Clark had been shoveling hay into one of the horse stalls when he heard his father grunt from across the barn. Jonathan wiped the sweat from his forehead as he looked at the red tractor in defeat.
“Son, could you throw me that wrench?”
Clark bent down to pick up the tool and held it up for his father. “This one?”
Jonathan nodded and Clark swung his arm back, then forward, and the wrench went flying through the air at warp speed. It collided with the tractor, putting a large dent in the metal. Jonathan’s eyes widened and Clark couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped from his throat. His father reached up to turn the key in the ignition and the engine came to life instantly. He chuckled.
“Maybe I’ll let you repair the old tractor from now on…”
Clark blushed and returned to bailing hay, hoping the wrench had survived the collision.
-----
The second time it happened, he and his mother had been in the kitchen, baking cookies together to bring over to their neighbors, Nell Potter and Lana Lang. It was Lana’s birthday, and Martha knew that her son was rather fond of the young girl. She caught him peeking inside the oven and smiled.
“Are they done?”
He nodded, opening the oven door a bit. “They smell good.”
“Alright, you grab those and I’ll go get your father.”
She was leaving the room as he grabbed the potholder from the counter and reached for the cookies. His hand paused as he realized, he could grab the hot cookie sheet from the oven with his bare hands. His abilities usually scared him or made him uneasy, but sometimes they were fun to play with.
He dropped the potholder and reached for the cookie sheet, pulling it slowly out of the over. He grinned as he held it front of him, the cookies looking perfectly brown and delicious.
His fingertips grew hot as the heat from the pan began to penetrate his skin. He gasped and threw the pot straight to his left, watching as it flew through the living room and out the window, shattering the glass. His parents walked into the kitchen at that moment, Martha frowning and Jonathan grinning from ear to ear.
“Son, I think you should hold off on throwing things for a while. Or atleast until we get that window fixed.”
Clark’s blush this time around was a deep red as he sulked out the door, going to retrieve the cookie sheet from the yard.
-----
The third time around, it was his best friend who witnessed his super strength come into play. They were playing basketball on the side of the barn and Pete was currently winning by seven points, which did not please Clark. He knew deep down that if he wanted to, he could run laps around Pete and catch up in no time. But he had to keep his abilities in check. Not only to keep Pete “out of the know”, so to speak, but to keep the game fair.
Pete threw the ball at Clark and smiled. “Come on, man, you said you were a force to be reckoned with in basketball.”
Clark angled the ball in his hands and threw it into the air, the ball bouncing swiftly off the rim and back toward Pete.
“Well, atleast I didn’t break anything this time.”
Pete laughed, all in good fun, but Clark didn’t like to lose. In fact, he hated losing. He wanted to win, and he knew he could! It was immensely frustrating for him. Pete bounced him back the ball and Clark dribbled it on the dirt ground, putting a little more force than intended behind the ball. He aimed for the shot again, this time the ball hitting the backboard and bouncing back into Clark’s hands.
He let out a growl and squeezed the ball in his hands, pushing it away from his body and towards Pete. Unfortunately for his friend, his strength had decided to kick in at that precise moment and the ball made a sickening thud as it hit Pete dead in the chest, sending the young boy flying back on the ground.
Clark supersped over to Pete and kneeled down beside him. Clark could hear this dad running toward them and he felt tears form behind his eyes that he wouldn’t allow to fall. He’d broken a window, yes, but now he’d broken his best friend!
Pete’s eyes opened slowly and he began to sit up with the help of Clark’s father. His hand rose to his chest and he winced.
“Yeah, you weren’t kidding about that force, man.”
Behind the wince, he saw Pete smile slightly to try and lighten the mood. But Clark felt horrible. He’d hurt his best friend with his abilities, one of the things he’d always dreaded happening.
-----
“Sweetie, it wasn’t your fault. You haven’t gotten full control over your powers yet. These things take time.”
Clark glanced down at the milk and cookies his mother had set out for him and sighed. He knew he hadn’t meant to hurt Pete, and that it was an accident, and that there wasn’t much more to do than apologize to Pete for the hundredth time and give his powers “time.” But he didn’t have time. He was ten years old, when would things get easier for him?
Perhaps he just wasn’t meant to be normal, to play basketball with friends or help his dad with the chores or bake cookies with his mom. Normal boys did these kinds of things all the time, yet he was a walking, talking catapult.
Time. He had a strange feeling that time was something he would one day come to dread.
Author: RobynAdele0406
Fandom: Smallville
Character: Clark Kent
Character’s Age: Ten
Word Count: 1,033
Rating: PG
Summary: Clark learns not to throw stones in glass houses. Or anywhere else, for that matter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Clark Kent or any of the characters in this story. But oh, how one can wish!
Author's Notes: This is Clark at age ten. Feedback is greatly appreciated.
-----
Hard Hitter
It was the third time in as many days that he’d underestimated his strength. Whenever he let the fact that he was “special” slip his mind for even a second, he wound up damaging or destroying things around him. Luckily, it had only been happening at home, when he felt the most relaxed and unguarded, but it wasn’t always in the company of the same person.
-----
The first time it happened, Clark had been shoveling hay into one of the horse stalls when he heard his father grunt from across the barn. Jonathan wiped the sweat from his forehead as he looked at the red tractor in defeat.
“Son, could you throw me that wrench?”
Clark bent down to pick up the tool and held it up for his father. “This one?”
Jonathan nodded and Clark swung his arm back, then forward, and the wrench went flying through the air at warp speed. It collided with the tractor, putting a large dent in the metal. Jonathan’s eyes widened and Clark couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped from his throat. His father reached up to turn the key in the ignition and the engine came to life instantly. He chuckled.
“Maybe I’ll let you repair the old tractor from now on…”
Clark blushed and returned to bailing hay, hoping the wrench had survived the collision.
-----
The second time it happened, he and his mother had been in the kitchen, baking cookies together to bring over to their neighbors, Nell Potter and Lana Lang. It was Lana’s birthday, and Martha knew that her son was rather fond of the young girl. She caught him peeking inside the oven and smiled.
“Are they done?”
He nodded, opening the oven door a bit. “They smell good.”
“Alright, you grab those and I’ll go get your father.”
She was leaving the room as he grabbed the potholder from the counter and reached for the cookies. His hand paused as he realized, he could grab the hot cookie sheet from the oven with his bare hands. His abilities usually scared him or made him uneasy, but sometimes they were fun to play with.
He dropped the potholder and reached for the cookie sheet, pulling it slowly out of the over. He grinned as he held it front of him, the cookies looking perfectly brown and delicious.
His fingertips grew hot as the heat from the pan began to penetrate his skin. He gasped and threw the pot straight to his left, watching as it flew through the living room and out the window, shattering the glass. His parents walked into the kitchen at that moment, Martha frowning and Jonathan grinning from ear to ear.
“Son, I think you should hold off on throwing things for a while. Or atleast until we get that window fixed.”
Clark’s blush this time around was a deep red as he sulked out the door, going to retrieve the cookie sheet from the yard.
-----
The third time around, it was his best friend who witnessed his super strength come into play. They were playing basketball on the side of the barn and Pete was currently winning by seven points, which did not please Clark. He knew deep down that if he wanted to, he could run laps around Pete and catch up in no time. But he had to keep his abilities in check. Not only to keep Pete “out of the know”, so to speak, but to keep the game fair.
Pete threw the ball at Clark and smiled. “Come on, man, you said you were a force to be reckoned with in basketball.”
Clark angled the ball in his hands and threw it into the air, the ball bouncing swiftly off the rim and back toward Pete.
“Well, atleast I didn’t break anything this time.”
Pete laughed, all in good fun, but Clark didn’t like to lose. In fact, he hated losing. He wanted to win, and he knew he could! It was immensely frustrating for him. Pete bounced him back the ball and Clark dribbled it on the dirt ground, putting a little more force than intended behind the ball. He aimed for the shot again, this time the ball hitting the backboard and bouncing back into Clark’s hands.
He let out a growl and squeezed the ball in his hands, pushing it away from his body and towards Pete. Unfortunately for his friend, his strength had decided to kick in at that precise moment and the ball made a sickening thud as it hit Pete dead in the chest, sending the young boy flying back on the ground.
Clark supersped over to Pete and kneeled down beside him. Clark could hear this dad running toward them and he felt tears form behind his eyes that he wouldn’t allow to fall. He’d broken a window, yes, but now he’d broken his best friend!
Pete’s eyes opened slowly and he began to sit up with the help of Clark’s father. His hand rose to his chest and he winced.
“Yeah, you weren’t kidding about that force, man.”
Behind the wince, he saw Pete smile slightly to try and lighten the mood. But Clark felt horrible. He’d hurt his best friend with his abilities, one of the things he’d always dreaded happening.
-----
“Sweetie, it wasn’t your fault. You haven’t gotten full control over your powers yet. These things take time.”
Clark glanced down at the milk and cookies his mother had set out for him and sighed. He knew he hadn’t meant to hurt Pete, and that it was an accident, and that there wasn’t much more to do than apologize to Pete for the hundredth time and give his powers “time.” But he didn’t have time. He was ten years old, when would things get easier for him?
Perhaps he just wasn’t meant to be normal, to play basketball with friends or help his dad with the chores or bake cookies with his mom. Normal boys did these kinds of things all the time, yet he was a walking, talking catapult.
Time. He had a strange feeling that time was something he would one day come to dread.