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The first time Clark meets Superboy, he's still stubbornly calling himself Superman, and Clark is still totally depowered after coming back from the dead (because he can come back from the dead, apparently).
Oh yeah, and also an alien warlord is using a sentient machine city to wipe out the world.
So there isn't really time for questions about minor issues like Who are you, or how did you get here, or has anybody mentioned you look just like I did at your age?
Even though they don't really have a chance to talk, Clark still thinks he sees enough to know the important things. For all his scatterbrained banter and TV slang, the Superboy is brave, dedicated, and self-sacrificing—Clark wouldn’t have made it through the fight without him.
Whatever he is, Clark decides, he’ll do fine.
He wants to catch up with him when they make it back to Metropolis, but then there’s Lois, and the complicated matter of figuring out how to bring Clark Kent back to life, and by the time he has a spare moment Superboy is nowhere to be seen.
He decides not to look for him just yet.
But when the kid wants to talk, he’ll be ready.
The second time Clark runs into Superboy, they’re both in the GBS green room with Steel, waiting for an interview panel featuring the last Supermen standing.
Clark was a bit preoccupied last time, what with being dead, and then not being dead, and then trying to fight a space warlord protected by an entire machine city de-powered. This time he tries to get a clearer impression and find more pieces of the half-blank puzzle that is Superboy.
Superboy seems casual and relaxed, lounging with a teen magazine and a can of Pepsi on one of the canvas-covered folding chairs. And of course he would be: from Lois' retelling of events, Superboy was all over the news almost from the week Clark died fighting Doomsday.
Heck, even the magazine he's holding has an interview with Superboy as its central feature. Clark x-rays the magazine to read it, but there's nothing new to learn except Superboy's favorite local beaches, rated by sun, surf, and 'scenery'. (The accompanying photo of Superboy with a couple local lifeguards makes clear exactly what scenery he means.)
This I really did not need to know.
Still, even at rest Superboy seems to have a camera-ready kind of poise, as if he's making sure he's always prepared to be looked at.
The leather jacket looks off-the-rack, but not the jumpsuit, and all of it is human made. Clark can’t tell about the exact composition of the fabric, but it looks like an advanced sports material, not like the hand-me-down Kryptonian fabric Ma made Clark’s suit out of. He can’t be a solo act, not with that level of craftsmanship—not to be stereotypical, but he doesn't look like he knows his way around a sewing machine. There must be some kind of support team helping with the tech and funding replacement suits.
It couldn’t be a military project. Lois would have known about it: she always kept an eye on the armed forces' attempts to obtain their own hero. And, well, he certainly doesn't act military.
Whenever asked direct personal questions about his origins, Superboy brushes the questions off, or his manager does on his behalf. Clark has looked up the manager and she's a perfectly normal talent agent at a small studio: divorced, no kids at home, clean history, specializes in commercial work and backup dancers but recently branched out to extraterrestrials.
Her press package states he came from Krypton, or at least works very hard to give that idea without using the actual word, but does an impressive job of dancing around the issue of how he actually got to Earth.
There are plenty of options.
Augmented human—unlikely, since his bone structure doesn’t look to be tampered with, but not impossible. There have been plenty of accidents like the one that created the Flash, who still appears perfectly normal to Clark's vision.
Martian—probably not, Clark decides, considering the fire all around them in the wasteland surrounding Engine City.
Another non-Kryptonian alien—this is a strong possibility, since some extraterrestrial species, especially distantly-related populations like the Daxamites, are nearly indistinguishable from Kryptonians.
Kryptonian—Clark just doesn’t buy it. Yes, he looks it, yes, there’s Kara. But he can’t imagine having the same level of luck twice. Much as he might like it.
Whatever his story is, Superboy’s clearly not lying about the super part. Maybe he really does think he’s from Krypton. Clark certainly spent long enough searching for answers as a kid to understand the yearning that might have led him to that conclusion. Or if not, if he knows he's lying…maybe he thought his best chance of being accepted on Earth, instead of being seen as a hostile alien to be captured or driven out, came from associating himself with Earth’s greatest hero. Clark can't resent giving him the boost, if that's the case.
Even if his showboating is a little annoying at times, it's clear he's no threat, and his heart is in the right place. It wouldn't be fair for Clark to pull the proverbial Super-rug out from under him and leave him vulnerable while he's still getting his bearings. He wants to help the kid, not make himself into a territorial adult throwing his weight around.
And if they're friends, maybe Superboy will feel comfortable going to Superman for help when he feels like telling the truth. He doesn't seem to have any private identity—it's all Superboy, all the time (maybe he's far more talented at hiding than his personality would suggest, but Clark doubts it). Clark isn't sure who else he might have who he can talk to, besides his manager, who is perfectly nice and professional but clearly unequipped for advice on matters beyond auditions and contract paperwork.
Enough staring, you’re running out of time before the broadcast.
Clark walks over. For a moment, he thinks he hears Superboy's heart rate flicker, but nothing else about his attitude changes.
“Good morning,” Clark tries.
Superboy crushes the empty can and tosses it at the trash can in the corner. "He shoots, he scores!" Then he looks up, raising his sunglasses, and Clark is once again struck by the shade of his eyes. It’s so close…but wouldn’t the Fortress have known something? “Hey.”
“You did good work out there in Engine City. I never had a chance to thank you.”
“Always happy to help out a fan.” Superboy waits a split second for Clark’s smile to start before he laughs. “So, you know, any time…not that I’m going to be needed as much now that you’re back.”
“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, kid,” Steel interrupts, patting Superboy’s shoulder with one armored hand. "Besides, who would my niece put up posters of without you?"
“He’s right,” Clark says. “I mean, there’s enough in this town to keep ten Supermen busy. I don't have a niece,” he adds pointlessly. Kara is his cousin, and she isn't in the city at the moment anyway—after Clark came back she decided she needed a break, so she's taking summer courses at a community college near Smallville.
“Geez.” Superboy blinks blue eyes behind the sunglasses. “Too bad there’s only one of little ol’ me, right?”
"Listen, if you ever want to—"
"We're ready for you on set!"
Clark reaches up to smooth the shoulders of the cape. "If you ever want advice, kid, I'll make time to talk whenever you need it."
Superboy shrugs, tossing the magazine aside as he stands and stretches. "Thanks, old-timer, but I think I've got this gig figured out."
Clark watches him walk out of the waiting room. "Old-timer?" he repeats blankly, as Steel bursts out laughing behind him.
The third time Clark meets Superboy, it’s at a press conference for the inevitable ‘Inspired by a True Story’ rushed TV movie—Death and Life of a Legend.
From how quickly the production is taking shape, they must have started work on the script practically the moment Clark drew his last breath.
Not that he minds.
…though they could have waited until he was cold.
It airs on W-LEX, which was surprising, until Clark read the script. The terrible, terrible script.
The movie has everything: clumsy dialogue, strained romance subplots for every Superman (even the Eradicator, played by the past-his-prime rock singer who provides the movie's generic title song), what strikes Clark as an offensive misuse of 'Gangster's Paradise' in Steel's afterthought of an arc, and a blatant attempt to spin the entire course of events in favor of Lex Luthor, portrayed on the small screen as a principled industrialist with entirely reasonable concerns about what might happen if superheroes painted a target on the globe.
Clark thought about suing, as Superman, but then decided that Lex might well be trying to invite exactly that, and it’s not like he didn’t have enough on his plate without trying to deal with a lawsuit over his own identity. Instead, Superman dropped polite hints in his next several interviews that in exchange for granting permission to use his story, maybe Executive Producer Lex Luthor would consider making a very large donation to a Doomsday victim support fund.
Now that the ball of looking like a dick if he pushes the issue is in his court, Lex concedes, and once the check is officially presented to the Mayor of Metropolis Clark decides Superman can tolerate turning up to a few promo events. However, that’s not why he’s here today.
Although most of the cast is composed of whatever soap opera actors W-LEX could repurpose on the cheap (or, in the case of 'Lucy Lands', since Lex must have known Lois wouldn't have Superman's second thoughts about suing, disgraced Gotham gossip journalist Vicki Vale. No, Clark hasn't heard the end of it), Superboy plays himself.
From what Clark has seen of his personality so far, no wonder he’d jump at the chance to be in a movie, and Clark can’t blame him, though he hopes he’ll make a better choice of networks next time. If Clark was a super-celebrity at the same age, he might have let it go to his head a bit as well. And Lex digging into his endangered vicuna leather office couch cushions to find the budget to bring in Keri Russell for a small role as Superboy’s love interest definitely sweetened the deal.
Superboy’s few scenes are, in Clark’s opinion, the best part of the raw preview cut they let him watch at the studio. Not only does he have a natural grace and athletic charisma, he delivers lines surprisingly well, not to mention building an easy playful chemistry with Keri on and off set that has the press going wild.
It also can't hurt that, unlike the rest of the cast, he can actually fly.
But today, instead of Superman providing another photo-op studio tour, Clark is there as Clark, covering Superboy’s promotional press conference with Keri.
Jimmy Olsen nudges him in the side as he tries to bring his camera into a better position over the crowd of reporters. "Whoops, didn't see you there, Clark. Gosh, she's cute." He snaps the shutter several times as Keri tosses her long curls.
"And I'm sure she'd be thrilled to be noticed by Metro's most eligible junior photography intern."
Jimmy laughs—"Consider my jets officially cooled,"—and takes a few more shots of Keri leaning on Superboy's shoulder, their faces at just the right distance to be framed perfectly in print.
Once the press conference actually gets going, Clark notes down meaningless softball questions from the other entertainment reporters—most from Metropolis and Gotham, but several from Keystone City and Star City, where the production did some location shoots to double for Metropolis street and waterfront scenes. Mainly, however, he watches Superboy's reactions and his playful exchanges with Keri.
So it takes him a while to notice exactly what's happening.
Someone who hadn't listened to Lois ranting about Luthor buying up struggling print companies up and down both coasts wouldn't even notice, Clark thinks. Luthor's been cautious about it. None of them are openly associated with him—not yet, anyway, but Lois' bombshell feature won't be ready for another few months, since she's chasing down proof Lex pressured an aging magazine president into signing over the family business rather than leaving it to his heirs.
The number of Luthor fronts Superboy is calling on is far too high to be coincidence. And the questions are his call, in theory: there's no manager on stage, and he doesn't have an earpiece. But Superboy clearly knows what he's doing, even redirecting Keri off a question from the Central Register, a respected industry magazine, to one from the Sunset Beat, an irrelevant Star City tabloid…until it was purchased by Luthor eight months ago. (Thinking back, Clark realizes it was the Sunset Beat that first started rumors that Superboy and Keri were dating.)
He must have been coached beforehand, Clark decides. But that makes no sense. Luthor wouldn't entrust such sensitive information to an unknown, potentially alien, superpowered teenager he'll have no control over after the movie wraps. Especially one who is so enthusiastically dedicated to the hobby of running his mouth.
“You next,” Keri calls, at about the same moment Clark realizes he’s put his hand up.
“Clark Kent, Daily Planet,” he says. “Superboy: how do you square providing so much positive publicity to Luthor when there’s considerable speculation that his actions in attempting to research the space debris led to Doomsday causing so much devastation in the city center?”
Keri blinks. Superboy freezes, and for a moment a hard sort of blankness drops over his face. He stares at the monitor cameras—or, Clark realizes, not at the monitor cameras, but through the wall behind them, towards the studio control room. Clark hazards an x-ray glance in the same direction.
Luthor is watching the main feed.
The strange frozen moment lasts perhaps about three seconds, then Superboy slowly relaxes. He leans back in his chair and whistles, taking his ever-present sunglasses off and spinning them idly in one hand. “Geez, man, what do you think this is, the UN? We’re making a movie, come on, chill out! Next question.”
“Wow, Clark, you really missed your calling on the entertainment fluff page,” Jimmy whispers as they duck back into the middle of the crowd of reporters.
“I was—” dead “—trapped in a fallout shelter for months because of Doomsday! So sue me,” Clark hisses back.
Luthor is still watching the feeds.
Clark realizes, suddenly, that there might be a much bigger problem here: one that playing the waiting game won't fix.
But after waiting so long, it might be too late to stop.
The fourth time Clark is supposed to meet Superboy, other circumstances intervene.
After realizing at the press conference that Luthor and Superboy are connected somehow, Clark spends weeks trying to figure out what to do.
He can't confront Lex about it. The only proof he has besides the sheer coincidence that Superboy turns up at so many events benefitting Lex is Lois' secret sources on the publishing scandal, and he can't risk blowing up her expose: with the election coming up information on what media sources are trustworthy will be vital.
It would all come down to Superman's word against Lex's, and Clark has learned from hard experience that no matter how transparently evil Lex is being it's a dangerous bet to take. He's stumbled into too many traps to risk it, especially for someone else who hasn't in any way asked him to get involved.
And say he does confront Lex. He can't see it actually helping Superboy, no matter the result.
If Superboy is working with Lex willingly, Clark barging in and threatening his benefactor will only make him less inclined to trust Superman and more inclined to stick with Lex. And if he isn't… Lex has a tendency to play roughly with any new toy he gets the impression Superman is also interested in. Lex might decide to get headlines for his acquisitions by throwing Superboy into situations far more dangerous than an off-set lunch with Keri Russell and a crowd of paparazzi.
It wouldn't be fair to put Superboy in the middle of a custody battle with a megalomaniac. Besides, it's not as if Superman has any actual claim over him apart from them both wearing primary colors. They might resemble each other enough for Lex to take advantage of it for his branding, but they're not actually related, not in any way that would matter legally.
If Luthor dropped him, the government might step in, and things could only get worse from there.
"So I just don't know what to do about it, Lo!"
"First of all," Lois says, kicking her shoes off and putting her feet up on Clark's couch, "do we have to watch Lawrence Welk while we have this conversation? Not that I don't love joining you every week, but Norma is ruining the dramatic mood here." She picks up a tub of Chinese takeout and waves it towards the extravagantly bouffanted blond woman on the screen.
Clark x-rays the living room until he finds the remote, then digs it out of the couch cushions to turn the TV down. "I can't turn it off, Lo, Ma always calls Sunday morning and she'll be crushed if I didn't watch it."
"It is a mystery why you might struggle to relate to the modern youth." Lois laughs around a mouthful of teriyaki chicken. "Okay, so here's what I've got: you think something is sketchy about the connection between Superboy and Luthor, but Superman can't go in guns blazing and Clark burned his chance for winning his trust by putting the poor kid on the spot to choose sides at a fluff press conference."
Clark flushes. "I'm an investigative reporter! I can't turn the investigation off!"
"Sure, sure." Lois waves her chopsticks dismissively. "I'm just saying. Well, since you blew it—"
"Hey!"
"Sorry, let me rephrase. Since you crashed harder than every prototype the Wright brothers made except the last one, why don't you let me try?"
Clark attempts to look sternly annoyed. The polka music makes it hard. "And how, oh runner up for the Siegel Award In Journalism Excellence three years running, are you supposed to get at him?"
Lois sets down her takeout tub and picks up a flier from the side table. “Behold!” Clark tries to focus on the glossy paper as she flourishes it in his face.
"... Nintendo?"
"I'm covering tech until Jerry gets back from his honeymoon, so Perry's sending me to this promo fair they’re doing for. Uh. Game-a-gotchis or whatever they have now.”
"What was it you were saying about the modern youth?"
Lois rolls her eyes. "I just don't see why kids need all these newfangled gadgets, Clark," she grumbles. "I grew up playing on the air base cockpit simulator like a normal, healthy child." The laugh Clark is wrestling with slips out and she elbows him in the side. "Anyway! Kid's definitely going to be there. And I'm sure he'd be happier to open up to me than you…"
"What," says Clark deliberately, "is that supposed to mean."
Lois flicks her hair.
"Lo!"
"Get your mind out of the gutter, Clark, I just mean he's known me longer! Oh my god!"
"I saw the photos Jimmy took when he first turned up," Clark grumbles into his chow mein. Not that he's serious—obviously nothing actually happened between Lois and Superboy while he was dead, and Clark and Lois don't even have a thing any more now that he's back…he's pretty sure. But still.
"He's a good kid, he's just…enthusiastic about anyone who pays attention to him. But he knows me enough to let me talk to him off the record, and that's better than you can do."
"I'll go with you." Not that he's worried about Superboy. But considering their history, he doesn't like the idea of Lois attracting Luthor’s ire without backup.
"And scare him off? Let me work, Smallville." She stabs her chopsticks towards him playfully. "I'll let you know when you're needed. Oh, Guy and Ralna, I love them, turn it up "
Lois turns and curls up against his side, shoveling up more chicken as Clark tries to dig out the remote from under her without throwing her off the couch.
Lois Lane has spoken: conversation over.
After that, he hears absolutely nothing about Superboy from Lois for another two weeks.
He knows she must have succeeded in making contact at the Nintendo event: Jimmy brought back a posed picture of them on either side of a Charizard statue, and a few candid shots of Superboy helping her position her hands on a Nintendo 64 controller (not to mention several of her looking far more invested in her Mario Kart ranking than he thinks she'd ever be willing to admit).
Otherwise he remains entirely in the dark until two Mondays later, when Lois practically materializes at his desk the moment the clock hits 5.
Clark blinks up at her. “What gives, Lo? You never leave on time.”
“Grab your coat, Smallville.” She reaches over him to shut down his word processor.
“I was still working on that!”
“And now you’re not. Meet me out front, I’m getting a taxi.”
“So what—” Clark tries again as he slides in next to her, only to be firmly hushed.
“Not yet!” She nods towards the driver. “Wait till we get there. I’ve got a surprise.”
Clark sighs and stews in suspense as the taxi creeps through afternoon traffic. “I could push this thing faster than—”
“Ssh! Oh, wait, wait, driver, stop here for a minute!” The taxi pulls over in front of a pizza restaurant as Lois fishes out her wallet. “Clark, go grab something, here.”
It begins to dawn on Clark what must be going on. “Lois, did you—”
“Go on! Meter’s running!”
Clark snatches the twenty out of her hand and sprints in, bolting out seven minutes later with two pepperoni pizzas. “What did you do?” he demands as he slams the taxi door closed.
“Nothing!” Lois pats her hair and smiles innocently. “Just a little…light kidnapping,” she finishes in a whisper.
“Kidnap—”
“Keep your voice down, gosh, don’t they have indoor voices in Kansas? He wanted to go: he doesn’t like Luthor any more than we do. It’s a heist, if anything. He’s waiting at my place.”
Clark sits in shock for the rest of the ride until Lois stops the driver around the block from her building.
“I can’t believe you pulled this off,” he says as he follows her up the stairs. “Did he tell you anything about himself?”
“Not yet. Unlike some people I could name, I’m letting him settle down before I interrogate him. Figured those would help…” Lois knocks on the door before unlocking it. "Hey, kid! Superboy! I'm back bearing…"
Her voice trails off as she stops dead in the foyer.
Clark leans over her shoulder to see an empty living room—an empty living room that looks like a small whirlwind hit it before departing through the open window.
“Superboy?” Lois runs through the rest of the house as Clark drops the pizzas on the kitchen island. “Superboy, it’s Lois…”
Clark finishes scanning the building as Lois arrives back in the living room, panting. “He’s gone, Lo.”
Lois turns around slowly in the middle of the wrecked living room, her eyes going wide. "Oh my god, Clark," she says when she's facing him again. "We've been set up."
"... Maybe Luthor sent someone to grab him?" Clark sets the pizzas down on the kitchen island and lifts her couch upright. It wobbles as he sets it down and he shakes his head. "That's never going to be the same again."
"He's super, they couldn't just take him if he didn't feel like going! Besides…" she kneels by the overturned end table and rolls it over so Clark can see the charred-out back panel. "He knew what he was looking for."
"Lo, that's where you keep—"
"—my confidential notes, yes." She reaches into the space created by the half-length drawers and false back panel and pulls out the empty, cracked remains of her fireproof steel document case. Clark doesn’t need any powers to see the clear handprint dents around the torn-off latches. "Or kept, anyway."
Clark doesn't want to believe it. But he's been in the game long enough to know he's looking at the aftermath of a search—not a fight. And not a long search either. The kind of search someone with x-ray vision would do, as if the burned table isn't enough proof. "Anything else missing? Money, jewelry?" He picks up a clock that must have rolled into the corner when the table fell over and hands it to her.
"Doesn't look like it." Lois takes the clock automatically, then glances at it and whistles. "9:15. He must have gone for it the moment the door closed behind me." She sighs and throws herself down on the couch, and the wobbly leg promptly collapses. "Damn it!"
"Sorry, Lo, I'll fix it for you later." Clark sits on the floor and leans back against the crooked couch.
"My publishing monopoly feature is dead now." Lois' voice is muffled by the cushions. "Rest in peace, Lois Lane's Siegel Award. Now that he has my list of sources, Lex is going to put the fear of…"
"Lex?"
"...Yeah, that. Into all my sources. Gosh, and I was so sure…I really thought he wanted to get away from Lex! I thought I was helping…"
"You didn't do anything wrong by giving him a way out," Clark says. "I'm sure the kid has his reasons. Maybe he just…wasn't ready." He tries to sound hopeful, without much success. After all, he did think Superboy was a good actor. He just can’t believe he’d do something like this. "Either way, I'm not going to give up on him just yet."
"Well, watch yourself, Smallville, because from here it looks to me like he's picked a side." Some of her anger fades and she sighs. "Poor kid. Whatever Lex is bribing him with, it can't be worth it. Hope he doesn't learn the price of a free Nintendo the hard way."
The next time Clark sees Superboy isn't until a few months later, when he's finally in Metropolis again after a week in space with the Justice League.
After Superboy ran back to Luthor with Lois' source list, Clark meant to try to talk to him, but every time he kept being interrupted by natural disasters, rogue missiles, space stations needing emergency rescue…and one time it rained frogs, which wasn't really a disaster but was very weird. Lois stepped on one and refused to set foot outside her apartment until Superman agreed to fly her to work, which meant Clark was the one who came in late for Perry’s lecture about how ‘the presses aren’t going to stop just because you’re scared of a few amphibians!’
At least, even if Superboy seems comfortable with corporate espionage, his heroism isn't entirely a front. His efforts to protect the city might mainly be printed in Luthor's papers (he was already avoiding Clark Kent, and now he won't talk to anyone from the Planet at all, including Lois), but it doesn't mean he's not helping.
No matter their personal differences, Clark still feels as if he can trust him to hold down the fort in case of real emergencies—as long as they don't involve Luthor, but even Luthor has been quiet on the evil plans front lately. If it means less giant robots in the streets, Clark is content to let him play the propaganda game for a while, at least while he figures out what he’s up to.
He hopes Superboy will take it as a sign of trust that Superman isn't chasing him down to demand what's going on. He tries his best to get in touch with him on a friendly footing, agreeing to attend any non-Luthor charity event where he thinks there's even a chance of the kid showing up.
At least, even if Superboy is wary of Clark Kent, he'll still talk to Superman. A little, anyway. He acts just the same as usual, which means that whenever Superman tries to get him into a conversation he'll quickly lose interest after exchanging hellos and wander off towards the nearest girl.
Maybe this is a job for Hawkgirl, Clark muses after the seventh time he's been ditched next to a table full of sandwiches. (He does have to admit that to a teenage boy he probably does not have the appeal of Miss Teen Metro County 1997. Especially since she's posing next to a sleek, bright red convertible.)
Still, despite Superman and Clark Kent's hectic shared schedule and Superboy's vanishing acts, it’s only a matter of time before they both respond to the same emergency.
A giant sea monster is attacking the Metropolis waterfront: Aquaman is on his way to help contain it, but if he’s leaving from Atlantis, Metropolis will have to handle it on their own for at least an hour.
The monster resembles a giant, sickly neon colored octopus—easily reaching five stories out of the water, with beaks on the end of each tentacle, and eyes lining all of the tentacles between the suckers.
I would really rather have the frogs. If anyone is listening, I’m sorry for complaining about the frogs.
It seems to be attracted to the weekend fair on the boardwalk, eyes blinking in curious ripples as it crawls halfway up the beach. Tourists start screaming and running, which startles it for a moment, but then a beak snaps down towards a cotton candy stand and Clark dives to pull the wide-eyed teen spinning candy out of the way.
Another beak moves towards a soft-serve stand, then jolts back, eyes swirling to focus as Superboy kicks it away.
Clark flies up to use his head vision to chase off another beak. “I think it just wants the sugar!” he calls. If it isn’t trying to eat people, there’s no reason to actually hurt it, just keep it from hurting anyone by mistake.
Superboy doesn’t acknowledge him at first. He dives down to grab a coil of rope to tie one of the beaks shut.
“Good thinking!” Clark shouts, looking around for some spare rope or chain he can use as well. He spots an unused loading crane and drops to the ground to borrow as much chain as he can carry.
Superboy glances down at him, and for a moment a small confused smile flickers on his face—then his casual mask returns.
As Clark ties up two more beaks, Superboy dives for more rope, stringing it between the beaks to restrain the tentacles.
Soon, the giant octopus is floundering in the shallows of the harbor, waiting for Aquaman to come pick it up and take it to the deep-sea sanctuary of Atlantis, far away from further sugary temptation.
Two helicopters circle overhead for prime footage—one from GBS, the other from W-LEX—although as Superman is concerned this is a pretty slow news day. Clark would be surprised if this gets more than a couple minutes of coverage total, since there were no casualties beyond a few cotton candy machines and freezers full of ice cream.
Clark wipes some octopus drool and salt off his hands with his cape and nods to Superboy as he hovers nearby. “Good to see you,” he says. “Been a while.”
Superboy shrugs. “Busy,” he says.
“I was glad for the help,” Clark says, floating a little closer. “Happy to work with you any time.”
Superboy floats back, folding his arms. “Sure.”
“And if you ever want to talk—”
“Look, I’ve got a shoot coming up, yeah? And you seem to have this handled. So. Be seeing you.”
“Wait, I just want to—”
Before Clark can finish the sentence, one of the beaks breaks free of the ropes holding it down and he has to dive to wrestle with it. By the time he’s satisfied it won’t be getting loose again, Superboy is nowhere to be seen.
Clark knew things with Superboy would boil over eventually. He just didn't expect it to happen without him.
But one day he gets a tipoff from 'Batman' (as if he would ever bother with the pager—Clark assumed it must be Alfred, since nobody else would dare to steal from Batman, and if Alfred thinks it's important enough for drastic measures Clark's definitely going to pay attention), and the next thing he knows he's trying to keep the Daily Planet from shaking to pieces on top of the staff.
He's too focused on the Planet to turn and look, but he can hear all the while that something big is going on with Superboy in the vicinity of LexCorp. An explosion; a lot of shouting from Superboy; another voice (Robin, he thinks, the new one, but he's only met him a few times so he isn't sure); a few radio pings back and forth with what sounds like Nightwing (the one who used to be Robin).
More explosions.
Someone falls, hard.
But the Planet is at peak shift: if he lets himself get distracted there are over a hundred lives at risk.
Without superspeed (because superspeed never tends to make earthquakes better) it takes him ten minutes to hold the building up, track down the seismic generator concealed in the basement, and guide Lois so she can knock it to pieces with an ax she finds in the emergency supplies closet.
After that, it only takes another half-minute to scoop up Lois and track Superboy to the roof of LexBank Center.
He is, admittedly, a little testy when he first reaches the building. Especially once he sees the other Superboy, and everything suddenly drops into place.
Then he sees how scared the kid is—how hurt, and still trying to protect Robin—and immediately regrets his harsh reaction.
“So,” Clark says once they’re all gathered in a corner of the roof, “clones, huh.”
“I…yeah.” Superboy shoves his hands in the pockets of the shredded and stares vaguely at the ground. “Listen, I won’t—I know you don’t want me, but if you just don’t hand me over to the government—”
“Oh my god, no,” Lois says. “We’d never do that.”
“We want to help,” Clark says firmly. “I…I’m sorry we didn’t do more sooner. I didn’t realize what was actually happening, but I still shouldn’t have let this go on so long without looking into it, Superboy.” A sudden thought hits him. “Is there something else I could call you, or…?”
“Huh?” Superboy blinks up at him, his eyes confused beyond the fading blindness from when the other clone blasted him with close-range heat vision. “Uh, no… Should there be? I guess there was a serial number on the project…”
“You don’t have a name?” Superboy flinches a little at the sudden anger in Lois’ voice. “Sorry,” she says quickly. “I’m not mad. At you, anyway. It’s okay.” She puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes a little. Then she shoots Clark a look. “But I bet we could do something about that…”
“Really?”
The half-hopeful, half-hurt look stings. Clark reaches out to mess up Superboy’s hair, and this time he doesn’t duck away. “If you're willing to accept a name from me, after all this, I’d be honored,” he says. “And I think we might be able to do something about the government, too.”
Once Batman takes his sidekick back to Gotham, the Green Lantern returns to Justice League headquarters with the other Superboy in tow, and Superman promises the gathered reporters that they’ll get a full explanation of what happened later, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, and the Superboy (bundled in an old coat and Metro U hat of Clark's) cluster in the back of a deserted diner to discuss what to do.
(“Oh my god,” Superboy gasps when Clark changes to meet them at Lois’ apartment. For almost half a minute all he can do is stare at the glasses and the awkwardly-cut suit. “Clark Kent? That was you at the movie press conference? No wonder you were pissed…”
“For some reason they didn’t let me review it when it finally aired,” Clark says.
“No kidding…and I just blew you off, I’m so sorry…”
“Don’t apologize,” Clark replies quickly. “Come on, the taxi’s waiting.”)
For the first twenty minutes, all they do is watch Superboy eat. He seems to be endlessly hungry, even more than Clark remembers at that age. But Clark was only just figuring out his powers during his teens, and even with just his small experiments he would always be exhausted afterwards. Meanwhile Superboy—whether out of his own enthusiasm or being pushed by Luthor—has been using his powers heavily practically every day since he first appeared. No wonder he’s constantly ravenous, especially today.
“I don’t know where he got the stuff he cloned me from,” Superboy says between bites, reaching for his hot chocolate. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clark says. “I’ve been cut up by Kryptonite a few times, Luthor was bound to get his hands on something eventually. More eggs?”
“Please?”
Finally Superboy’s appetite is satisfied enough for explanations.
"When I was first, you know, 'launched',” Superboy shrugs and flicks air-quotes, “Luthor told me I really was, well. You. Just transferred into a younger body. That's why I thought I could…" he drags his hands through his hair and slides deeper into the corner of the booth. "Could, uh, pick up with Lois…I was such a moron, I'm sorry—"
"It's okay," Lois says quickly. "I'm not angry. It was just a bit, uh." She rests her chin on her thumb. "Hm. How to describe it."
"Maybe," Superboy suggests rapidly, "instead of doing that we could just forget it ever happened.”
“Good plan,” Clark agrees.
“Yeah…anyway, I figured out the math didn’t add up on actually being you, so I tried to confront Luthor about it, and that was when I got the whole ‘you’re a clone and I own you’ talk.”
Lois snarls a few choice adjectives under her breath.
“Exactly,” Superboy agrees. “So then I ran into Lois at the Nintendo thing—by the way have you thought about using Bowser instead of…” He takes in Clark’s confused look. “We can cover strategy later. But Luthor was watching the whole thing. And you know the rest…” He sighs and sinks down in the seat. “I’m sorry. About stealing your notes, and Luthor…everything.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Lois says. “We shouldn’t have given up on you so fast.”
“More importantly,” Clark says. “I think I might have a solution to some of our other problems…have you met Supergirl?” He lowers his voice a little, even though none of the staff is close enough to hear—this diner is great for secret discussions, but not so good for prompt ordering.
“There was too much going on while you were dead to really hang out, but we talked some. She’s cool. We were gonna go to the movies but then, you know, half of Arizona blew up. Ruined the vibe, kinda.”
“She’s my cousin. Her Kryptonian name is Kara—maybe she told you?” Superboy nods so Clark continues. “Her parents must have been surprised when they had a girl, because when I read through all the records I have left from Krypton, I found a half-completed record in the El family ledger for the name she would have had if she was a boy. So I was thinking that might be just what we need right now…”
“I…oh,” Superboy breathes. “But—I couldn’t—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lois cuts in. “What’s a little immigration fraud between friends?”
“She’s right,” Clark says. “With the policies on Kryptonians, you wouldn’t have anything to worry about from the government. So if you don’t mind being inundated with my mom’s cooking every Thanksgiving—”
“Sign me up,” Superboy says immediately.
Clark raises his coffee cup. “Well then, welcome to the family, Kon-El.”
“I like it.” Kon raises his hot chocolate mug and clinks it against Clark’s with a shy smile that turns into a startled grin as Lois hugs him.
Clark coughs, suddenly feeling nervous. “I figure you might have enough of father figures after Luthor,” he says cautiously. “But if you’re up for it, I think I might be able to do, I don’t know, a pretty good weird stepbrother?”
“I think—" Kon squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, then looks up at Clark with clear blue eyes. "I think a weird stepbrother sounds like everything I ever wanted.”