"What's this?"
"Today is your birthday, is it not?"
"I...suppose."
Everybody is standing in the living room, party hats and what were big smiles when he arrived and now are just awkward ones. There's a big cake in the corner and a colorful "Happy birthday" sign hanging over the fireplace. The smell of freshly-baked corn cakes comes from the kitchen and Conner sees Wally rubbing his stomach before leaving an uncomfortable-looking Artemis behind and zap his way to their side.
"Dude, chill, it's just a birthday party." And he's back to the archer's company before she can even put her glass down the table behind her.
"Are you not happy with it?" M'gann asks him, her thin fingers holding his forearm as if she's afraid he might try to leave at any second. As if that was even possible. She looks beautiful today, glowing and wearing her favorite purple skirt and jacket. Her expression however has gone from filled with happiness to nervous and unsure in a heartbeat, and Conner doesn't know what to do or what to say. "You can be honest," he feels her voice somewhere behind his temples, its smoothness caressing part of his worries always. "We are all here for you."
He casts a glance around. That's what he doesn't understand. This is not the first time he attends a birthday party, but this is his first one. Less than a year ago, he was a project and the content of a pod, and now...
"Is there something wrong, dear?"
Her voice is so sweet and calm, even calmer than M'gann's. Conner doesn't remember ever seeing such a welcoming smile from anyone, at least not from someone outside his team and his friends. But there stands Mrs. Martha Kent, her frail figure emanating warmth and care for him. For someone she has just met.
"Take your time, my friend," another voice sounds inside his mind and he realizes his oldest friends are all there. Kaldur's presence commands attention as naturally as ever.
"Yeah, but do you mind taking it faster? Some of us could really go for some foo-"
He almost feels - as much as he sees - Artemis hitting the back of Wally's head. She offers him a sympathetic roll of eyes before smiling at Conner. "I'm not used to these things either..." she confesses. "Can't help much here."
If his mind is crowded, the silence in the living room starts to get heavy and uncomfortable. Raquel points to her forehead and shakes her head - she's understood, but she's telling him to cut it out.
"Thank you for...doing this and..." he says. And there are so many of them. Dinah and Oliver came, and all the team, but not- "Would you excuse me?"
"It's okay. Why don't you go get some air, son?"
The word from Jonathan Kent clings to his eardrums. It's just an expression, one he has heard number of times before from elders when referring to youngsters, but never before he was the one receiving it. He feels M'gann shutting down the link, lingering just a moment longer. "Call me if you need me," she whispers before letting him alone to his thoughts.
Conner feels her fingers also leaving his arm and turns around, mastering the strength of his limbs and the anxiety of his mind to not take the door out of its rightful place. Even after he closes it behind him, he can still hear the heavy silence in the living room slowly dissipating as the Kents start offering more refreshments and a sandwich is given to Wally.
Sitting on the top stair of the porch, Conner watches the sunset paint the sky with deep orange hues that melt into the darker shades of blue that come with the early night. There's a kind of peace in the Kansas air, the quietness of everything disrupted only by the sound of animals and wind, that even he can appreciate.
He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to channel his feelings into the right paths of his mind. He's grateful for what they have done, but he would prefer to spend the day with M'gann and Wolf and Sphere and his friends back home - back at the only home he's ever known and had.
He never even wanted a birthday party, to begin with. He doesn't see the meaning behind one if you never really had been given birth.
M'gann, however, believed it was nonsense. Birthdays parties, she learned from all the television shows, are an occasion to gather your loved ones and share good moments with them, and that is far more important to her than any birth-celebrating ritual. But Conner is sure he meets his friends with a fair regularity and that they can share good moments in any given free weekend.
The air shifts around him. He opens his eyes and, coming in his direction, is someone. Someone distinctly in red and blue, despite the fading light. Superman lands a few steps away from the porch, cape floating for a second around his shoulders, and lowers his glaze towards Conner.
"I though I would make it on time," he says, half smile chiseling his face. "There was an attack at the Central Bank and I had to..." His excuse dies in his lips and his eyebrow furrows. Only then Conner notices that his own face is contorted in anger. "I am sorry, I should have been here."
"I doesn't matter," Conner replies, his hands balling into fists. "I'm sure you had more important matters."
He stands and walks away, toward the cellar, but Superman catches up making the air and the leaves gush as he stops. "I... Conner, it is not that-"
"Then what is is?!"
He's shouting, but they're in the middle of nowhere, so much so that Superman doesn't even bother to be seen as he is. He doesn't bother to try and calm Conner down, either. He just waits. And once Conner has his breathing in rhythm again, he puts a hand to the boy's shoulder and presses it lightly.
"You can feel anyway you want to." Superman says as if he could sense his embarrassment. "I am not here to judge you. None of us are." He goes ahead, leading the way into the cellar, at a normal human pace.
Conner always wonders how is it he can do it - to slow himself down and to tame himself so much that people would never look twice. He thinks the same about Wally and his uncle too, but the speedsters only have to keep their speed in check, while Superman has to keep, well, his whole being. He can still remember the effect of the shields, he can still taste what if felt like to be like a fully-fledged Kryptonian, and he can't imagine himself choosing not to be always in full power.
"When I told my mother about you," Superman says, turning on the lights, "the first thing she asked me was when they could meet you." He's opening a huge trunk now, from where he takes a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt and shoes. "That is why I told your friends to come and celebrate your birthday here." He takes off the suit and gets into the civilian attire in a blink. "Maybe I shouldn't have. But then I would have to deal with a very hurt and angry lady and nobody would like that."
"But they aren't your real parents," Conner says before he even thinks enough to stop himself.
"They are real enough to me. Growing up in Smallville made me who I am today. Being their son made me who I am today. The world only has Superman because Jonathan and Martha Kent had Clark."
Conner nods, more ashamed than he would care to admit.
"So you don't think genetics has anything to do with it," Conner mutters, trying to find a way out of here.
"It has something to do with it," Clark admits, cleaning his glasses with the sleeve of his shirt. "It is because of our genes that we are stronger and faster than a human, but it is our choices that make us heroes or villains."
Conner rolls his eyes and folds his arms against his chest.
"Yeah, I've heard that before."
"I am sorry if I sound repetitive. It is just that... I am also sorry for not being supportive since the beginning." Clark sits by the trunk, relaxing his posture. "But I was scared.
"Scared?"
"Yes. Scared of you."
That gets Conner's undivided attention. He risks a couple of steps towards Clark and unfolds his arms, a lot less casually than he wants to make it look.
"I guess it's not everyday you meet the weapon designed to stop you."
"I feel like you were my responsibility, and I am too young to be a father. And, well... There was also the fact that you were educated to be a contingency plan in case I went berserk."
Clark is smiling now, and his voice sounds a lot younger than it does in front of the team or the League. He stands and takes a box from behind the trunk. It's light and wrapped with red paper.
"What's this?" Conner asks as he's handed the rectangular box.
"I do believe today is your birthday. Or else why would a bunch of teenagers be crowding my parent's living room?"
The boy takes the box, unsure. M'gann has given him her present in the morning, and he has noticed a pile of small boxes and packages at the Kent's room, but he wasn't expecting any of this. He tries not to tear paper and box apart, manages to mostly do so, and finds himself looking at a royal blue sheet with Superman's symbol on it.
"This came on my ship with me, from Krypton. It is where it all began."
"And why are you giving me this?"
"Your genomorphs may have thought you everything you needed to know about Earth, but I don't believe they had a deep knowledge of Krypton to share with you," Clark says. The tone of his voice is deeper, but somehow not heavier. "I am giving you this because it is a family heirloom. And so it should stay in the family." He sits by the trunk again, casually, and looks at Conner from above his glasses. "You already are a Kent, even if by accident. But you still need a Kryptonian name."
"Kryptonian name?"
"Yes. I am Kal-El. That is the name that was given to me at my birth." Clark puts his hand on Conner's shoulder and it feels less heavy than he thought it would. "And since today is your birthday, I believe it is a good occasion for you to receive yours...Kon-El."
Conner's eyes go from the fabric to Clark.
"I thought you were too young to be a father."
"But I've always wanted a kid brother."
The reply catches Conner off guard and throws him off balance. His feet stay put in the ground, but his head spins for a couple of second before it stops.
"You...you really think of me as family?"
He nods. A simple gesture, but one full of non-spoken words.
Conner remembers the anger. He remembers the instructions, the strategies, the week points. But he also remembers the silver moonbeams, and then the sun, the Cave and his friends, now waiting for him. He imagines Wally going through hotdogs under the stern but loving gaze of Artemis. He can see Dick going through his mp3 player and picking the songs that will make Zatanna swing the most. He can almost feel M'gann's gentle interest in whatever the Kents are telling her, her soft smile and the bright blushing on her cheeks.
"I... I don't know what to say."
Clark smiles, and it's different from when Superman smiles. It's more intimate, shier even.
"You don't have to say anything. But it would be nice if you stopped by the party Mom and Dad were so happy to put together for you."
The fabric in Conner's hands feels light and warm at the same time, pliable yet resistant. Above all, it feels precious, as if he is holding a relic between his fingers, one that he might tear at any moment.
"Maybe you should keep this," he says, folding it carefully. "I don't think the Cave is the best place for a keepsake such as this."
Clark's smile dies just a little, the light behind his eyes fades just the slightest.
"But... It is my gift to you."
Conner puts it back into the box and hands it back to Clark, mustering the best smile he knows.
"I know. And either way, it stays in the family. Right?"
Clark doesn't move, and when he does he pulls Conner into a bear-tight hug, and the boy now knows how his friends feel like when he looses control for a split second. Short of breath, and very slowly, Conner uses his free hand to hug him clumsily back.
"Thank you, Kon-El."
"For what?" He asks when Clark lets go of him, and the older man smiles broader and than laughs.
"Never mind me. Should we go back to the party, now? Ma and Pa are probably worried about you."
And when they go back to the house, Conner is greeted with the exact scene he had envisioned, except for the small details he didn't account for. Wally is sharing one of his hotdogs with Artemis, while talking to Oliver and Dinah. Zatanna is dancing in a corner, but Dick accompanies her moves rather than just watch her. They are joined by Raquel and Kaldur, whose idea of dancing includes nothing more than just a-step-to-one-side-a-step-to-the-other routine. M'gann is sitting between Martha and Jonathan, giggling while the couple shuffles through a photo album.
"Ma... Pa! What are you doing?" Clark asks and in the following second he hovering over his parents, trying to snatch the album away from their hands.
"We were just showing this lovely girl our baby boy!" Martha says, lightheartedly.
"Not the summer pictures!"
The whole room burst into a laugh, and Conner has no option. His chest fills with air, a rumble starts on the back of his throat and before he knows it, he has one hand on his stomach, eyes shut and his cheeks are burning. The laughter takes its time to go through his system and he doesn't fight it, not even when he feels the slightest brush of M'gann on his mind.
"Is everything alright?"
He goes to the couch, lifts her up and holds her in his arms. He doesn't mind anyone but her. He cups her delicate face with one of his hands, brushing the his thumb as light as he can against her cheek and her lips.
"Just perfect."
As far as Conner's experience goes, birthday parties are not so bad. In fact, he might get used to them.