I'm not sure whether or not this is possible, but it is fanfiction, so whatever. ;) Hope you like it. Feedback is love.
Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville.
It'd been 3 years since Clark Kent had entered the Kent's lives, and things were going considerably well. Clark was just like any other child, behavioral wise, despite his extreme strength and speed. He laughed, cried, got into things he wasn't supposed to, had nightmares, and even occasionally wet the bed.
Because Martha hadn't been out a lot to visit friends in Metropolis, Jonathan now had the task of looking after Clark and doing work around the farm. Clark, seemingly more and more everyday, behaved while Jonathan worked on "big jobs". The little boy loved helping his daddy, such as going back and forth to get tools, unload the feed, and, as a reward, create a pile of hay and jump on it while holding onto a rope attached to the loft as his father pushed him.
One night, only an hour before Martha was due home, father and son were helping themselves with a second serving of macaroni and cheese with dinner rolls, the extent of Jonathan's cooking.
Jonathan was reading the rest of the newspaper and Clark was shoving bread and noodles into his mouth with such vigor Martha would have scolded him not too eat too fast. Unfortunately, Jonathan didn't notice.
As Clark chewed his food, he used his spoon to create a dog-like form with his mac n cheese, and, after taking another bite of dinner roll, he was about to inform Jonathan with his food masterpiece.
"Da-" his voice stopped in mid-word.
Jonathan's heart leapt into his throat when he saw the fear in Clark's eyes. Clark was clawing at his throat, trying to at least get enough room between the bread and the walls of his esophagus to draw in air like it was supposed to. From what Jonathan knew, Clark could hold his breath for a long time. But never had Clark choked long enough for Jonathan to find out.
"Clark?" he asked urgently as he rushed over to his son's chair. "Clark, can you swallow? Swallow real big, okay, Clark?"
Clark shook his head and his eyes welled up. Clark fisted his right hand and placed the thumb side against his stomach, pushing against his tummy. The food didn't budge.
"Okay, Clark, its okay…" Jonathan said. his heart thudding in his ears. He began to beat Clark's back gently but firmly, trying to help Clark spit the food out. He'd been choking over a minute now and no matter how much Jonathan pounded his back, it only caused bruises on his own hands and arms, terrifying Clark even more.
Clark didn't seem to be in pain, or otherwise in danger. But Jonathan didn't know how long that would last. "Clark, c'mon, spit it out. Just like you did with that pea shooter we made yesterday."
Clark glanced at his father and flailed his arms, trying to mimic Jonathan's Heimlich attempts on his stomach. Jonathan gripped Clark's shoulders. "Listen to me, Clark."
"Mmmmph!" Clark managed fearfully, holding on to Jonathan's flannel shirt tightly. He stared at his father with green-blue eyes, filled with fear and searching for comfort he expected from his Daddy.
"Keep trying to push that out, Clark. You know how you did a year ago when we discovered you didn't like peas? You put them in your mouth to satisfy your mother and next thing we knew it was on the ceiling. Do that now, Clark. You can do it, son." Jonathan struggled to keep his voice steady as he encouraged his little boy to spit the food out on his own.
It took another 5 minutes, and Jonathan was literally thanking God Clark was still conscious from the lack of air, but finally, finally the obstruction flew from Clark's mouth and landed 3 feet away. Clark was dead weight in his father's arms, thoroughly disoriented.
"Good job, Clark. There you go. It's okay." Jonathan hugged his son close in his lap, rubbing his back as he heard a shuddering sob make its way out. Rocking him back and forth, Jonathan kissed his son's hair, now just noticing his own tears running down his cheeks. "Shh, its okay."
Within 15 minutes, Clark was asleep in his father's arms. Jonathan stood up and got a glass of water, and woke Clark up slightly to let him drink it. Relieved, Clark slowly, carefully drank the water before laying his head on Jonathan's shoulder. Jonathan carried him upstairs, dressing the sleepy boy in his pajamas and tucking him in his bed. Kissing him on the forehead, Jonathan was about to turn but was stopped by the grip of Clark's hand on his shirt.
"Sleep wiff Daddy?" he asked hopefully, his voice a little hoarse. Jonathan didn't let Clark sleep in their bedroom unless he had a really really bad dream that reduced him to screaming or when Clark had that one small fever, so he was surprised when he saw his father nod and gather him in his arms once again. They made their way to the big bedroom.
Jonathan lay down with Clark snuggled in his arms. He caressed Clark's cheek with his thumb, humming softly. Martha always did that to calm Clark down. With a final sigh, Clark stuck his thumb in his mouth and drifted into dreamland, and, as Jonathan had learned from experience, the rythym of his living, breathing little boy was the only sedative he needed for sleep to creep around the corner.
"I love you, Clark. I won't let you forget that. You're mine, and you always will be. You're not going anywhere." he whispered.
Be sure to review and favorite! Thanks for reading! More Clark one-shots will be continued.