All American - Superman Returns
Title: All American
Author’s Notes: Inspired by an offhand comment in a forum. Cookies to anyone who gets the title reference.
Beta’d by the lovely trascendenza.
All American
Kal-El knows what he is supposed to be.
He was Clark, every day until the day the man he called father died. But Clark was stronger then he should be. Clark was faster then he should be. Clark was not supposed to be able to see through walls.
The man he called father told him, you can’t let anybody know. Not yet. You have to pretend to be normal, just like everyone else.
He’d heeded his father’s advice and over the years Clark Kent, terminally unassuming reporter, was born.
As Clark, he is clumsy and preternaturally uninteresting. Mild mannered and unfashionable. Clark is a disguise, and one he has become quite comfortable with. This is who he is supposed to be.
Kal-El is the last son of Krypton. He is a living monument to a civilization long dead. Kal-El is supposed to remember, to learn and to keep within him the memory of his forefathers. He wants very much to do just that.
Superman is the symbol, the guardian, and the leader. The sum of everything Clark could be. He dresses in iconic colors and he talks in measured, confident tones. He speaks of hope and justice, just as he should.
Clark knows who he’s supposed to be. He knows who he wants to be. The only thing that worries him... he doesn’t know who he is.
He never wanted Lois to see. Not the rogue, unsorted parts of him. He didn’t know how she would react. He found he didn’t want to know. He was the hero, and she the princess on her tower balcony. That was how it was supposed to be.
The hours tick by, and Clark is jolted out of his reverie by Lois hastening to catch the elevator. He watches through the walls as she ascends to the roof.
Waiting in her tower.
Waiting for her hero.
He scrambles to follow, ever just behind her, and collides unexpectedly with her fiancé.
His glasses slide down his face, and he goes to reach up and adjusted them, only to be stopped short by Richard reaching out. Slowly, Richard nudges his glasses back into place, and smiles.
Clark wants to reach out, to stop his hand from retreating. He wants to tear his glasses off and show him.
He wonders what the other man might see.
This doesn’t fit. This isn't how he is supposed to feel, what he’s supposed to be.
He rushes off then, some half formed excuse on his lips. He’ll change in the bathroom and meet Lois on the roof. He’ll fly her around and woo her in epic proportions, like he’s supposed to.
He knows who he should be. He just doesn't know who he is.
Author’s Notes: Inspired by an offhand comment in a forum. Cookies to anyone who gets the title reference.
Beta’d by the lovely trascendenza.
All American
Kal-El knows what he is supposed to be.
He was Clark, every day until the day the man he called father died. But Clark was stronger then he should be. Clark was faster then he should be. Clark was not supposed to be able to see through walls.
The man he called father told him, you can’t let anybody know. Not yet. You have to pretend to be normal, just like everyone else.
He’d heeded his father’s advice and over the years Clark Kent, terminally unassuming reporter, was born.
As Clark, he is clumsy and preternaturally uninteresting. Mild mannered and unfashionable. Clark is a disguise, and one he has become quite comfortable with. This is who he is supposed to be.
Kal-El is the last son of Krypton. He is a living monument to a civilization long dead. Kal-El is supposed to remember, to learn and to keep within him the memory of his forefathers. He wants very much to do just that.
Superman is the symbol, the guardian, and the leader. The sum of everything Clark could be. He dresses in iconic colors and he talks in measured, confident tones. He speaks of hope and justice, just as he should.
Clark knows who he’s supposed to be. He knows who he wants to be. The only thing that worries him... he doesn’t know who he is.
He never wanted Lois to see. Not the rogue, unsorted parts of him. He didn’t know how she would react. He found he didn’t want to know. He was the hero, and she the princess on her tower balcony. That was how it was supposed to be.
The hours tick by, and Clark is jolted out of his reverie by Lois hastening to catch the elevator. He watches through the walls as she ascends to the roof.
Waiting in her tower.
Waiting for her hero.
He scrambles to follow, ever just behind her, and collides unexpectedly with her fiancé.
His glasses slide down his face, and he goes to reach up and adjusted them, only to be stopped short by Richard reaching out. Slowly, Richard nudges his glasses back into place, and smiles.
Clark wants to reach out, to stop his hand from retreating. He wants to tear his glasses off and show him.
He wonders what the other man might see.
This doesn’t fit. This isn't how he is supposed to feel, what he’s supposed to be.
He rushes off then, some half formed excuse on his lips. He’ll change in the bathroom and meet Lois on the roof. He’ll fly her around and woo her in epic proportions, like he’s supposed to.
He knows who he should be. He just doesn't know who he is.