SV/DCU fic: O brave new world
Title: O brave new world
Fandom: S1-S3 of Smallville, some DCU elements
Rating: worksafe gen
Summary: Conner goes outside for the first time. 2,000 words.
Notes: Sequel to Such Shaping Fantasies. Apparently I'll be posting these as an unbetaed WIP series for now. Also available on DW and AO3.
Miranda: O wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world
That has such people in't!
Prospero: 'Tis new to thee.
-Shakespeare, The Tempest
Conner had only been out in the world for two days, but he was pretty sure cats were like him: there'd never been one in history who'd really been stuck up a tree. But the little girl crying at the base of the tree was about five, which was much older than him, and she wanted her kitten down now. Since it was the first kitten Conner had actually seen he was willing to try it.
Dad hadn't wanted Conner out of his sight. He was busy with a lot of meetings, though, running his business, arranging a cover story for the appearance of his teenage son, that sort of thing. So Conner had snuck out and gone for a walk in the central park near LuthorCorp Tower. Two days inside left him wanting to be outside. Real sunshine and real air were amazing.
He'd bought a t-shirt a few minutes ago from a cart selling tourist schlock. It was black with a solid red version of Superman's S-shield, and he wanted it, despite the fact that Dad would flip. And Conner understood everything that Lex had told him, he really did, but this symbol was his. Looking at it made his breath catch, and having it felt right, and he'd just slipped it on when he heard the girl crying.
So now here he was, floating down from the tree when he heard a brusque, deep voice behind him.
"What are you doing?"
He whirled around, and oh shit, it was indeed the last person he should be talking to. Superman, hovering near him with his fists on his hips, elbows jutting out belligerently, cape flowing in the breeze and stupid underwear on the outside. He didn't look exactly like Conner: his eyes were green, and his hair brown, without the reddish tint that Conner was realizing was visible in his black at just the right light, shorter and mostly slicked back with a single dorky gelled curl over his forehead. Their faces were shaped a little different but they had the same nose.
"Petting a kitten," Conner replied defensively. He snuggled the tiny creature closer to him, feeling the soft fur under his chin. "And making a little girl happy." A quick glance down showed him that she had stopped crying and was instead staring upward rapturously at the tableau they formed.
Those green eyes narrowed. "I meant, who are you and why are you flying around my city wearing my symbol?"
"I don't need your permission to do anything. It's certainly not your city."
The edge of those unfamiliar lips twitched in frustration as if he'd struck a well-worn nerve. "It's definitely my symbol. Who are you?"
"I'm Superboy." Conner had thought about it a lot these last two days, and he hadn't come up with anything better, so there it was. Surely even Superman could see how similar they were.
The expression looking back at him was still hostile. "Who sent you?"
"Dude, seriously?" Like he was some kind of villainous minion or trap or something. "Can't a guy go for a walk while his dad's busy? Without getting the third degree?"
"Who's your dad?"
You are, jerkoid. But Conner totally wasn't going to say that. "Yeah, well, who's yours?" he snapped instead, a totally rhetorical question that made him feel a little superior because he knew the answer. "Cause why should I tell you, isn't it private? It's not like you ever told him, you just go around rubbing his face in it every day." He knew he was getting incoherent from annoyance, but that disguise wasn't even a disguise, and why would anyone think it would work to stop someone from recognizing them... Hopefully he hadn't inherited the Kryptonian stupidity genes, or whatever he had inside him.
Though he had to admit one thing, even as a sucky disguise it was clearly Superman looking at him right now, because that cold visage could never go with a name as homely as Clark. And Conner realized just then, with a shiver, that he had inherited the Kryptonian stupidity genes. Here he was floating around in broad daylight without even trying to hide. And Superman had seen him and if he saw him again and if he saw him with Dad and they were in the same city and Dad was so going to flip.
The kitten started clawing at him and he loosened his too-tight grip. Good thing he was invulnerable.
Superman sighed. "I find it highly suspicious that you show up looking like me and using my name and symbol. I will get to the bottom of whatever evil plot is afoot here. Mark my words, you aren't going unobserved."
"Flying at the moment, geez, not afoot. And if you'll excuse me I have a kitten to deliver now."
He swooped down and deposited the kitten in its owner's outstretched hands. She beamed at him and then skipped away over the lawn.
He could hardly go home just now, so instead Conner settled down on one of the park benches, stretching out to catch as much sun as possible. He tried to ignore Superman's insistent hovering. The man stuck around for about ten minutes, just silently watching Conner sit there, until he seemed to hear something and zoomed away with a last glare.
It didn't hurt, of course, not at all. Not the suspicion and not the leaving. No, sir.
Now Conner really knew where Dad was coming from.
***
In the beginning he was intermittent. He didn't know where he was, or whether he was, when he was gone; he just knew that things went on without him sometimes.
Only two things were real: him and Lex. The rest was just set dressing. He should have been just another empty form. But somehow, somehow he wasn't, somehow, because Lex was just that awesome or because he was just that awesome, he was aware of himself.
The empty form was called Clark. Even when he was there, Lex called him Clark, but he knew he wasn't.
At some point he decided Lex was his father. He probably could have chosen another option, but he didn't. He didn't know why. He just chose.
Lex thought he was Clark and he wasn't so he had to be careful. He had to pretend just enough and not too much.
After a while he was always there. Sometimes Lex was the one who was gone, then. He would wander the empty forms and marvel at them and wait for Lex to come back. Then he started being aware that there was a world outside. Sometimes he could glimpse it, could glimpse Lex's waking hours from inside his mind.
That's when he learned that despite being aware of himself he wasn't truly real.
He wanted to be real. He wanted to be out in the world where everything was real.
Eventually he wanted it so much that he told Lex the truth and then he could leave.
It hurt. It didn't hurt Lex, luckily, but it did hurt him. It felt like being poured through a sieve, and he wasn't made to pour. But it was worth it once he was outside.
Outside was different. Outside he had a name. Outside the colors weren't as bright, and the sounds weren't as complete, but things were solid and they smelled and tasted.
Outside when he wanted to go from point A to point B he had to cover all the space and time between. This could be a little boring. Especially at night.
He didn't sleep. He never got tired, and that was good, because if he had slept, he wasn't sure he'd come back. A dream can't really dream, can it?
***
When Conner returned home from the park and hid his new shirt he found Dad in the study sitting on the couch reading his tablet and drinking something amber and alcoholic. Conner put his hand down on the side table and slid the glass over to grab it and take a sip. He liked tasting new things. But this was nasty and burning in his mouth and down his throat.
"Ew," he said, scrunching up his face and setting the glass back.
"If the scotch is older than you are, don't drink it," Dad replied calmly. Conner toed off his shoes and curled up against Dad on the couch.
With his head tucked between Dad's shoulder and neck and hands on Dad's chest he could feel and hear his breath and heartbeat. Dad wrapped his arm around Conner's back. It was much better out here than when Dad used to dream about them cuddling. Conner could smell Dad, warm and clean, and he turned his head just a little and licked the smooth skin of Dad's throat. It tasted just the tiniest bit salty. Dad's fingers twitched against him and Conner figured he'd done something weird again.
"I think I inherited the Kryptonian stupid genes," he mumbled into Dad's pulsepoint.
"No, you didn't." Dad's hand slid up Conner's neck and he started stroking his hair. Being the one petted was even better than petting a kitten.
He wasn't sure how to start explaining it. "There was a girl. And I was wearing a shirt."
He could feel the movement of Dad's jaw as he opened his mouth and closed it without saying anything, then continued, "I was about to say, 'Not as much fun as the alternative,' but then I realized it's now my parental duty to claim the opposite. So, 'Better than the alternative'?"
Conner huffed a laugh. "She was a little kid. With a kitten."
"And then what did your shirt have to do with it?"
"I snuck out." Dad nodded, and Conner had figured he'd noticed. "And it was one of those tourist souvenir things. But it's my symbol too, it is. And then the kid was crying because her kitten was up in a tree, so I flew to get it, and that's when he arrived."
Dad caught his breath and then slowly exhaled. "Sooner than I had hoped."
"He was asking all kinds of questions and glaring at me. Saying it was his city and he was going to get to the bottom of my evil plot."
"Clark has had evil doubles before. Of course he would be suspicious meeting you like that."
Conner pulled away and sat up straight and threw his hands in the air. "Now you're just making excuses for him! Again! Still!"
"I don't think making your other father the scapegoat for everything is either fair or healthy for you." Dad looked very serious.
Frowning, Conner shook his head. "He's not necessarily my father. He didn't really have anything to do with creating me." And if someone didn't want him, Conner wasn't going to want that kind of father, wasn't going to keep pining.
"We both know that without Clark you wouldn't be here. Not that I can even pretend to understand yet how you exist."
Conner let his scowl drop and grinned at Dad. "Well, I do exist. So there."
A single arched eyebrow was the response to that. "Did he see you come here?"
"Nope, I waited him out and he headed off before I came home."
"Very well. Conner, let me deal with him first. Just avoid him for now."
Avoiding him sounded like a great plan for the moment. Conner just wasn't sure how feasible it was. And he wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea for Dad to talk to Clark, or Superman, but he probably couldn't stop that. At least Dad had more experience in the area than Conner did. He just... didn't want to see his Dad get hurt anymore. Conner nodded.
Dad reached out and rested his hand on Conner's shoulder. "Let's go out for dinner tonight."
Awesome. No more being stuck in the penthouse!
This entry was originally posted at http://ciaan.dreamwidth.org/58558.html. Please comment here or there.
comments there.
Fandom: S1-S3 of Smallville, some DCU elements
Rating: worksafe gen
Summary: Conner goes outside for the first time. 2,000 words.
Notes: Sequel to Such Shaping Fantasies. Apparently I'll be posting these as an unbetaed WIP series for now. Also available on DW and AO3.
Miranda: O wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world
That has such people in't!
Prospero: 'Tis new to thee.
-Shakespeare, The Tempest
Conner had only been out in the world for two days, but he was pretty sure cats were like him: there'd never been one in history who'd really been stuck up a tree. But the little girl crying at the base of the tree was about five, which was much older than him, and she wanted her kitten down now. Since it was the first kitten Conner had actually seen he was willing to try it.
Dad hadn't wanted Conner out of his sight. He was busy with a lot of meetings, though, running his business, arranging a cover story for the appearance of his teenage son, that sort of thing. So Conner had snuck out and gone for a walk in the central park near LuthorCorp Tower. Two days inside left him wanting to be outside. Real sunshine and real air were amazing.
He'd bought a t-shirt a few minutes ago from a cart selling tourist schlock. It was black with a solid red version of Superman's S-shield, and he wanted it, despite the fact that Dad would flip. And Conner understood everything that Lex had told him, he really did, but this symbol was his. Looking at it made his breath catch, and having it felt right, and he'd just slipped it on when he heard the girl crying.
So now here he was, floating down from the tree when he heard a brusque, deep voice behind him.
"What are you doing?"
He whirled around, and oh shit, it was indeed the last person he should be talking to. Superman, hovering near him with his fists on his hips, elbows jutting out belligerently, cape flowing in the breeze and stupid underwear on the outside. He didn't look exactly like Conner: his eyes were green, and his hair brown, without the reddish tint that Conner was realizing was visible in his black at just the right light, shorter and mostly slicked back with a single dorky gelled curl over his forehead. Their faces were shaped a little different but they had the same nose.
"Petting a kitten," Conner replied defensively. He snuggled the tiny creature closer to him, feeling the soft fur under his chin. "And making a little girl happy." A quick glance down showed him that she had stopped crying and was instead staring upward rapturously at the tableau they formed.
Those green eyes narrowed. "I meant, who are you and why are you flying around my city wearing my symbol?"
"I don't need your permission to do anything. It's certainly not your city."
The edge of those unfamiliar lips twitched in frustration as if he'd struck a well-worn nerve. "It's definitely my symbol. Who are you?"
"I'm Superboy." Conner had thought about it a lot these last two days, and he hadn't come up with anything better, so there it was. Surely even Superman could see how similar they were.
The expression looking back at him was still hostile. "Who sent you?"
"Dude, seriously?" Like he was some kind of villainous minion or trap or something. "Can't a guy go for a walk while his dad's busy? Without getting the third degree?"
"Who's your dad?"
You are, jerkoid. But Conner totally wasn't going to say that. "Yeah, well, who's yours?" he snapped instead, a totally rhetorical question that made him feel a little superior because he knew the answer. "Cause why should I tell you, isn't it private? It's not like you ever told him, you just go around rubbing his face in it every day." He knew he was getting incoherent from annoyance, but that disguise wasn't even a disguise, and why would anyone think it would work to stop someone from recognizing them... Hopefully he hadn't inherited the Kryptonian stupidity genes, or whatever he had inside him.
Though he had to admit one thing, even as a sucky disguise it was clearly Superman looking at him right now, because that cold visage could never go with a name as homely as Clark. And Conner realized just then, with a shiver, that he had inherited the Kryptonian stupidity genes. Here he was floating around in broad daylight without even trying to hide. And Superman had seen him and if he saw him again and if he saw him with Dad and they were in the same city and Dad was so going to flip.
The kitten started clawing at him and he loosened his too-tight grip. Good thing he was invulnerable.
Superman sighed. "I find it highly suspicious that you show up looking like me and using my name and symbol. I will get to the bottom of whatever evil plot is afoot here. Mark my words, you aren't going unobserved."
"Flying at the moment, geez, not afoot. And if you'll excuse me I have a kitten to deliver now."
He swooped down and deposited the kitten in its owner's outstretched hands. She beamed at him and then skipped away over the lawn.
He could hardly go home just now, so instead Conner settled down on one of the park benches, stretching out to catch as much sun as possible. He tried to ignore Superman's insistent hovering. The man stuck around for about ten minutes, just silently watching Conner sit there, until he seemed to hear something and zoomed away with a last glare.
It didn't hurt, of course, not at all. Not the suspicion and not the leaving. No, sir.
Now Conner really knew where Dad was coming from.
***
In the beginning he was intermittent. He didn't know where he was, or whether he was, when he was gone; he just knew that things went on without him sometimes.
Only two things were real: him and Lex. The rest was just set dressing. He should have been just another empty form. But somehow, somehow he wasn't, somehow, because Lex was just that awesome or because he was just that awesome, he was aware of himself.
The empty form was called Clark. Even when he was there, Lex called him Clark, but he knew he wasn't.
At some point he decided Lex was his father. He probably could have chosen another option, but he didn't. He didn't know why. He just chose.
Lex thought he was Clark and he wasn't so he had to be careful. He had to pretend just enough and not too much.
After a while he was always there. Sometimes Lex was the one who was gone, then. He would wander the empty forms and marvel at them and wait for Lex to come back. Then he started being aware that there was a world outside. Sometimes he could glimpse it, could glimpse Lex's waking hours from inside his mind.
That's when he learned that despite being aware of himself he wasn't truly real.
He wanted to be real. He wanted to be out in the world where everything was real.
Eventually he wanted it so much that he told Lex the truth and then he could leave.
It hurt. It didn't hurt Lex, luckily, but it did hurt him. It felt like being poured through a sieve, and he wasn't made to pour. But it was worth it once he was outside.
Outside was different. Outside he had a name. Outside the colors weren't as bright, and the sounds weren't as complete, but things were solid and they smelled and tasted.
Outside when he wanted to go from point A to point B he had to cover all the space and time between. This could be a little boring. Especially at night.
He didn't sleep. He never got tired, and that was good, because if he had slept, he wasn't sure he'd come back. A dream can't really dream, can it?
***
When Conner returned home from the park and hid his new shirt he found Dad in the study sitting on the couch reading his tablet and drinking something amber and alcoholic. Conner put his hand down on the side table and slid the glass over to grab it and take a sip. He liked tasting new things. But this was nasty and burning in his mouth and down his throat.
"Ew," he said, scrunching up his face and setting the glass back.
"If the scotch is older than you are, don't drink it," Dad replied calmly. Conner toed off his shoes and curled up against Dad on the couch.
With his head tucked between Dad's shoulder and neck and hands on Dad's chest he could feel and hear his breath and heartbeat. Dad wrapped his arm around Conner's back. It was much better out here than when Dad used to dream about them cuddling. Conner could smell Dad, warm and clean, and he turned his head just a little and licked the smooth skin of Dad's throat. It tasted just the tiniest bit salty. Dad's fingers twitched against him and Conner figured he'd done something weird again.
"I think I inherited the Kryptonian stupid genes," he mumbled into Dad's pulsepoint.
"No, you didn't." Dad's hand slid up Conner's neck and he started stroking his hair. Being the one petted was even better than petting a kitten.
He wasn't sure how to start explaining it. "There was a girl. And I was wearing a shirt."
He could feel the movement of Dad's jaw as he opened his mouth and closed it without saying anything, then continued, "I was about to say, 'Not as much fun as the alternative,' but then I realized it's now my parental duty to claim the opposite. So, 'Better than the alternative'?"
Conner huffed a laugh. "She was a little kid. With a kitten."
"And then what did your shirt have to do with it?"
"I snuck out." Dad nodded, and Conner had figured he'd noticed. "And it was one of those tourist souvenir things. But it's my symbol too, it is. And then the kid was crying because her kitten was up in a tree, so I flew to get it, and that's when he arrived."
Dad caught his breath and then slowly exhaled. "Sooner than I had hoped."
"He was asking all kinds of questions and glaring at me. Saying it was his city and he was going to get to the bottom of my evil plot."
"Clark has had evil doubles before. Of course he would be suspicious meeting you like that."
Conner pulled away and sat up straight and threw his hands in the air. "Now you're just making excuses for him! Again! Still!"
"I don't think making your other father the scapegoat for everything is either fair or healthy for you." Dad looked very serious.
Frowning, Conner shook his head. "He's not necessarily my father. He didn't really have anything to do with creating me." And if someone didn't want him, Conner wasn't going to want that kind of father, wasn't going to keep pining.
"We both know that without Clark you wouldn't be here. Not that I can even pretend to understand yet how you exist."
Conner let his scowl drop and grinned at Dad. "Well, I do exist. So there."
A single arched eyebrow was the response to that. "Did he see you come here?"
"Nope, I waited him out and he headed off before I came home."
"Very well. Conner, let me deal with him first. Just avoid him for now."
Avoiding him sounded like a great plan for the moment. Conner just wasn't sure how feasible it was. And he wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea for Dad to talk to Clark, or Superman, but he probably couldn't stop that. At least Dad had more experience in the area than Conner did. He just... didn't want to see his Dad get hurt anymore. Conner nodded.
Dad reached out and rested his hand on Conner's shoulder. "Let's go out for dinner tonight."
Awesome. No more being stuck in the penthouse!
This entry was originally posted at http://ciaan.dreamwidth.org/58558.html. Please comment here or there.
comments there.