He knew that, most of the time, his abilities really weren't fair when it came to the basics of marriage.

If he wanted to leave the bed without disturbing her, he could simply float - slowly and gently, if she happened to be lying on his side – so that the bed wouldn't spring back as quickly. If he were watching her, he could monitor her heartbeat so that he could know when she was about to wake (it was times like those where he would love to pretend to sleep so that she could watch him, but he knew she would kill him if she ever found that out, so he eventually stopped doing it). He could tell when she was frustrated, happy, and calm… all by the speed of her heartbeat. Seeing where she was required X-Ray vision, and she would sometimes sit and stare at the room he was in and give a hesitant wave. He, of course, loved to keep this a secret as well, enjoying her instinct of "I felt like I was being watched." She would say this with a small grin, knowing exactly why she felt the way she did, and he loved that she gained that instinct.

There were moments, though, where he could use his abilities to an almost-human advantage. Lying next to Lois, feeling the warmth of her small frame pressed against him, he would simply sit and stare while he focused his hearing until the world around him was as quiet as he could make it, until the only thing that existed were the muffled outside sounds and her quiet breathing. He wondered if this was how she felt in the moments when she would watch him sleep, feeling this content and overwhelmed with love for one other person. With his arm used as a pillow, the strands of her hair would tickle his sensitive skin, but the slightly irritating sensation was minimal when seeing the content smile on her face. His other arm shifted across her belly to bring her even closer. Seeing her in this moment, clothed only in moonlight and ardent kisses, made him wonder how he lived a moment without her.

But that's the point of love. Discovering your better half, and igniting the desire to keep the other as safe and protected as possible, not because it's expected of you, but because you want to.

Of course, he knew the term "better half" was usually used to describe ones soul mate, but how could he subject that to a singular person when he felt the same about his son?

Experimentation was Clark's favorite activity with Jason in their time together. While Lois and Richard had been careful with what their boy could and could not eat (and understandably so), Clark felt he could at least give the boy a chance to develop his taste buds and hope that he would eventually grow out of it. After all, Martha and Jonathan had done the same for him, and who better to determine how Jason's body was reacting over new foods than his own father? It was one of the few times when X-Ray vision could be used domestically.

So when Jason had revealed one morning that he had never had a "good Midwestern breakfast" – a meal that usually consisted of homemade pancakes made from scratch and sausage with eggs – Clark decided that he would treat his son to something good and homemade that you couldn't find in the local dairy cooler. "But let's start with something smaller," he said, setting Jason on the counter and grinning when he son started kicking his legs back and forth. "Have you had French Toast?"

Jason's hair, sticking up in every direction on one side, matted to his head on the other, bobbed when he shook his head.

Clark paused with a hand on the refrigerator door. "What did you eat before school?"

"Mommy always made cereal. Or something from a box." He pointed at the freezer door. Clark opened it to reveal boxes full of Jason's special foods, including heat-and-eat bags of his macrobiotic milkshakes.

"Oh." Clark stared for a moment at the frozen contents. "What about Saturday mornings? What'd you eat then?"

"Lotsa fruit and green stuff."

Clark raised an eyebrow, a small smile forming on his mouth. "Jason, does mommy or Richard know how to cook?"

"Daddy cooked all the time. Mommy used the microwave a lot."

Clark stuck his head in the refrigerator door, hiding his full-blown smile at the answer he knew was coming. "Yeah, mommy likes the microwave." He pulled out a loaf of bread. "Well, no more, little guy! If you grow up to be anything like me – and those chances seem kinda high – you'll be waking up earlier than mommy, so we can have breakfast together. How does that sound?"

"Good!" Jason bounced on his spot on the counter, then eyed the bread Clark set beside him. "I can't eat bread."

"So you think," his father answered, unwrapping the twist-tie and pulled out a piece. "But if I was able to at your age, you should be able to as well."

He held out the piece for Jason to take. His son stared at the bread, uncertain whether to take it.

"Just trust me, Jason. I had the exact same problem, too. But you won't know if you can really eat it unless you try."

Hesitantly, Jason took the bread and nibbled a small corner off the crust. Clark quickly used his X-Ray vision and monitored Jason's physical reaction as the bread was chewed, swallowed, and digested. He continually raised his eyes from Jason's esophagus to his mouth, waiting to see signs of swelling and intense blood flow. When several moments passed and nothing happened, he grinned. "Can you try a bigger piece?"

Jason took another bite. Again, Clark scanned his mouth and esophagus and saw no signs of… anything. Everything went perfectly as Jason's mouth stretched into a smile.

"Well," said Clark, breaking his focus and staring at Jason's grinning face. "What do you think of bread?"

"Can I have another one?"

"You can have one more – but it'll be your French Toast piece. We're gonna want to save this for your lunches now that you can eat it. Once we get through this, remind me to have you try bologna sandwiches." Clark went back to the refrigerator for the milk, pausing before he opened the door. "But you can't have milk, right? Is that another thing we'll have to try?" His small, excited smile melted when he saw only soymilk sitting in the corner of the fridge. "Soymilk it is," he muttered, wondering how it would affect the taste of the overall breakfast. When he reached for a couple of eggs, he stopped again. "Can you have eggs?"

Jason pointed to the door. In a green and brown container was a half-used half-dozen carton of eggs. Taking the final three, he set them next to the bread on the counter. "Are you sure you've never had French Toast before?"

"Daddy made pancakes."

"So you like pancakes?"

"Mm-hmm!" Jason bounced again.

"We'll have pancakes sometime, then. But let's try French Toast and see if you like them, okay?"

Making sure he told Jason every detail of preparing their breakfast, Clark took in Jason's excited bounces, they way he observed everything with rapt attention, how his feet continued to swing from the countertop. Every now and then, his fingers would play with the sleeve of his Aquaman pajamas. When the bread was battered with the eggs and milk and set to cook on a pan, the scent made the boy's stomach growl loudly. He was nearly leaping off the wall with excitement when Clark sat him at the table and gave him a plate with one steaming piece of bread lightly coated with syrup. When Clark sat beside him with his own plate of two steaming pieces, Jason waited patiently while Clark cut his bread into smaller pieces. As soon as he was finished, Jason stabbed a piece with his fork and stuck it in his mouth. Clark watched him for a moment, smiling when Jason's eyes grew wide. "This is really good!" he said, trying to chew at the same time.

"Good! I'm glad you like it." Clark cut up a piece for himself and ate it, watching Jason's face as he eagerly took another bite. After a moment, when the two were nearing the end of their meals, Clark took another drink of his milk, wishing he had gotten a bigger glass. "I will say this, though," he said, taking another bite and pausing when he tasted the soy before anything else. "I can't wait until you can drink regular milk."

Jason mimicked his father's movements. "Me neither."

He never imagined how difficult it would be to balance his family and the world. Both would require his attention no matter what, but his family… he hated missing out any more than he already had. Every now and then, he and Lois would have heated discussions, oftentimes arguments, about how they both needed to rely on each other to make their crazy lives work. In the end, as crazy as it sounded, he loved having those arguments; they reminded him of what he had, and what he had nearly lost. Fights about raising their child together were preferable to fights over custody. He also enjoyed the reminder of how fiercely Lois loved their child. She was such a strong woman to have raised Jason despite controversy in the office.

It wore her out more than she'll ever admit, he thought one day, staring with a smile as she helped Jason with his homework, loving her running commentary about what they taught kids in school these days, but it only made her stronger and better. More amazing and more passionate about the things she loves. I left a woman with a broken heart and returned to a strong mother whose passion was tenfold.

Since their engagement and even into their marriage, Clark had made it his personal mission to make sure Lois felt as treasured and comforted as he could. Even if it meant leaving her alone when heated after a particular story didn't go her way, or providing some coffee when she spent all night locked up in the study, or afterward, when her knees and back would be sore from sitting all night and he would rub the aching muscles until her small whimpers subsided. There were afternoons when, on those rare days off that Perry insisted she take, he would come home for lunch and find her curled up in the bed, fully dressed, allowing some of the stress over the years to melt away in a simple nap. Once in a while he would leave her be, knowing this might be one of the few times she could get as much undisturbed rest as she could. Other times she would wake up, asleep but not so deeply that she didn't hear him come in, and acknowledge his presence. There were moments when he would simply slip a blanket over her curled frame, remembering how she hated to wake up cold from a nap. Other days, forgoing his hunger and too tempted to resist the idea of simply laying beside her, he would slip off his shoes and gently ease himself onto the bed, careful not to disturb her any more than he already had. Curling his body around her fetal-shaped one, he'd let his warmth, amplified by the sunlight, envelop her, easing her into a deeper sleep than before. To the best of his knowledge this act never bothered her – she would never mention it when he came home, but he did get the idea that she appreciated the act anyway, especially when she looked rejuvenated and energized.

He couldn't help it, really – he had a family, a son who lit up his world better than the sunlight, and a wife whose very life cast a spell on him greater than kryptonite. They both had the ability to make him smile in wonder, but the two of them together – in the car, at dinner, working on homework, at the office – were hypnotizing. This was his family, the one thing he never thought he'd be fortunate to have. Sure, his mom and dad were more than enough growing up, and his mom was still the strongest woman he'd ever known, but to finally experience what they had, to know what it was like to raise a family, somehow made it… complete.

Once when he was helping Jason with a reading assignment, the dictionary was flipped open randomly while Clark watched Jason carefully construct his handwriting so that it would be readable. He couldn't help it when his eyes drifted to the book instead of his son's worksheet – seeing it done for the fifth time was getting a little old – and when his eyes found the word on the book, he nearly laughed with irony. The word 'family' was open for him to read: a person or people related to one and so to be treated with a special loyalty or intimacy.

How very true, those words. Family were to be treated with a special loyalty, the comfort of knowing that their safest haven was with others they could trust beyond anything else in the world. How fortunate was he that the number had grown from one to three? Yes, they had their problems and complications, and he knew those would never end no matter how much he wanted the white picket fence and the dog running around the yard – being married to a city girl who loved her job and her hometown made him rethink his Midwestern dreams a little – he was much happier in a house just on the outskirts with a small yard and no dog. Besides, if home is where the heart is, the location didn't matter. Earth had been his home for years, but his true home, the one other than a farm in Smallville, Kansas, was cuddled beside him on the couch at the end of a long day, seated together at the dinner table, working together to get to a destination on time, heading to the movies on a weekend, even a ballgame in the summer (though one particular member never indulged in that particular tradition). Lois and Jason would still be around when he returned from rescuing kittens from trees or mine workers from fires. He'd always hate those personal moments where he had to leave, but they were always there.

Waiting for him.

Watching for him.

One evening the thought simply overwhelmed him after tucking Jason into bed. Sitting atop his comforter, listening to Lois hum off-key while getting ready for bed, he stared at his wedding photo hanging on a wall across from their bed. Hiswedding. To Lois Lane. He didn't know when she had stopped brushing her teeth or combing her hair, still damp after her shower, but he did hear her step out of their bathroom and stop suddenly. He must have looked lost, sitting there on their bed still wearing his suit and glasses from earlier that day, but he couldn't move if he wanted to. How did he become so fortunate to live his dream?

"Clark?"

He grinned softly when she said his name with a hint of worry. "I'm okay," he answered back.

"Are you sure? You look a little…"

"Lost?" he offered, his grin more visible.

"A little bit. Are you sure you're okay?"

He nearly sighed in satisfaction when she stood next to him, running a hand comfortingly through his hair. At last he broke his gaze with the photo and turned his head to nuzzle his face against her side. "I'm just very… content."

He could hear the sly smile in her voice. "Content, huh? After this morning?"

Saw that answer coming a mile away… "Not for the reason you'd think."

He glanced up at her and saw her raised eyebrow. Grinning, he affectionately kissed her clothed hip. "I'll tell you later."

She seemed satisfied with the answer for now. Walking away from him, she pulled back the covers on her side. "You're a walking, talking mystery to me, Clark Kent."

"Speak for yourself," he tossed over his shoulder, twisting his fingers through the knot of his tie. He was rewarded with a pillow to his back.

"That's part of my charm, though," she retorted, putting her pillow back behind her head. "You'll spend the rest of your life trying to figure me out."

"Yes, but the purpose of my existence is to be a walking, talking mystery, remember?" He stood and tugged open his dress shirt, showing off the S-shield for emphasis.

"Oh, I know," she grinned, watching him become a blur to remove his suit then stop seconds later clothed in pajama bottoms. She watched him as he walked across the room to turn out the lights, then her eyes caught sight of what he'd been staring at earlier. "You were staring at our wedding photo?"

He blinked at her and flicked the switch, submerging the room in darkness save for the strands of light that filtered in on their bed. "Don't you?"

"All the time," she admitted, pulling back the sheets for him to climb in beside her. "It's sitting there right next to the door. You'd have to be blind to miss it. But you always look so… thoughtful."

"Well, it is kind of a big deal, you know… being our wedding and all…"

"Yeah," she said, snuggling up to him once he drew her close. "I guess so."

"Youguess so?" He pulled back slightly, catching sight of her small smile. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The small smile became a sly grin. "I'll tell you later."

His hearing just caught the rhythm of her heart speeding up. He dipped his head and brought his face close to hers. "Oh you will, will you?"

She kept her mouth shut, but the gleam in her eyes was getting brighter. He gently pushed her back against the mattress, lifting a hand to let his fingers drift along her sides. The gleam changed to pure surprise and she let out a small shriek of laughter. "No! You'll never get answers outta me that way!"

"It works with Jason – why not his mother?"

"Because his mother knows exactly what to do in order to make his father stop—hey!"

In her distraction, she hadn't taken notice that he had pinned her hands crossed against her chest. Laying beside her, Clark watched amused as she struggled against his hand, eventually resorting to flapping her elbows and hoping he'd let her go. When he refused, she huffed. "You know, this isn't exactly the nice way to get what you want. Aren't we trying to get Jason to learn that?"

"Of course. But I have an advantage that Jason doesn't." Then he leaned over and kissed her deeply, putting his heart and soul into the kiss, intending to tell her without words just how much she meant to him. She seemed to get a good idea – for a few moments she was completely speechless, allowing him to adore her with his gaze, smiling lazily up at him while her heart continued to beat faster. Then she sighed deeply.

"I'm still not telling you. I'm an impenetrable Fort Knox."

Smiling, he released her hands and reveled in her smile, the glowing light in her eyes, and the wondrous feeling of her hands traveling up his back. He bent over and brought his lips as close to hers as possible. "We'll see about that."

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