3

Clark was feeling a little weird. Kal-El was being nice to him. He was helping him back, not snarking at him that much (maybe once an hour), and he wasn't even bugging him about getting his powers back. Clark was actually beginning to wonder if Kal-El were sick or if there was a color of meteor rock that made Kryptonians relax. He wasn't sure, but he had checked Kal-El for weird rings or pendants just yesterday to make sure.

Finally, when they were in the process of loading the truck, he asked his brother what was up. (Well, Kal-El was doing the hard stuff like the stereo and book shelf and anything heavy. Clark was doing the suitcases, which weren't exactly light.) Taking a breather after loading his second suitcase, Clark quirked his head at his brother. "Um, hey, don't take this the wrong way."

Kal-El stood up ramrod straight, as if in the military, and Clark realized then how tall they were. He had a slouching problem. Kal-El actually looked intimidating. "This depends. What are you going to inquire about?"

"Well I know you said that Dr. Swann suggested you be nicer to me, but I'm still...you're really going all out. I mean, even I don't want to be packing my stuff up. It's lame."

Kal-El nodded and shoved his trunk in the back of the truck bed without effort. "Perhaps this is not so bad. I am the first to admit that you are not so onerous."

"Thanks?"

Kal-El shrugged stiffly, as if the movement was foreign to him. "No, I meant that, if you would just realize that mother loves me more, we could get along quite well."

"Mom loves me more, R2D2."

"Mother prefers me, Opey," Kal-El replied.

Clark blinked. "You are so weird sometimes. Really? Andy Griffith references? Where does that even come from."

His brother sighed and rubbed his hands on his jeans, getting the dust off of them. Clark followed suit. "I have your memories through the day Kara or Lindsay, whoever, tricked us. You have occasionally seen Nick At Nite."

"Well, yeah. Still, I'm not Opey!"

"John-Boy then?"

"See," Clark replied, shaking his head. " This is the Kal-El I know."

"Still, after six months, you are not so horrible. This is not unbearable."

"I love you too," Clark snarked. Sometimes Kal-El wore out his welcome, well most of the time. However, he did have his useful side, like the way his stipend had freed up his own life, allowing him to do more than stay stuck at Central Kansas. It meant he didn't have to fall into a pre-ordained destiny of either Jor-El's or his dad's design. He didn't have to rule the world and he didn't have to farm. Now he just had to figure out what the Hell he was gonna do.

"Feeling is assuredly mutual," Kal-El replied winking at him and opening the door to the kitchen. Before Clark could blink, he was sitting at the kitchen table with a tall glass of lemonade and an unbelievably large slice of apple pie.

Stepping into the kitchen, Clark prepared his own snack, frowning when he was left with a slice about a third of the size of Kal-El's. "You took all the pie!"

"I have a faster metabolism. Besides, you have been gaining weight for six months."

Clark glared at him, as he sat down on his own stool, digging into his pie just to spite him. So his t-shirt was a little tighter. It wasn't like he couldn't still button his jeans or anything, even if it was more difficult than it had been back in March. "I'm fine."

"Do not be mad at me. I was merely stating a simple fact. You don't burn calories the way I do anymore. You can no longer eat as much as you did, even if you have farm chores to consider."

"Okay, so I'm not saying that I did gain weight, cause I totally didn't."

"However?"

"Yeah, but okay, assuming I did, maybe like five pounds or so, do you think that's why Lana went to New York."

Kal-El sighed and it ruffled the curtains. Huh, Clark hadn't gotten that one either. "Lana was fickle and incapable of caring for anyone but herself. I will say this one more time, it was not your fault she transferred."

"She's not that bad."

"How many days' notice did you give you about her decision?"

Clark glared at him and dug into his pie some more. "She cared about me."

"I suppose she may have in however way she is capable, but she did not love you or she would have remained here. You did nothing wrong; it is she who is deficient."

"Are you comforting me?"

"Marginally. Though," he added, smirking. "You may wish to avoid the 'freshman fifteen.' You would like to fit into your clothes, would you not?"

"Oh screw you."

"That is an offer I shall decline."

"You know what I mean. I think I've had enough togetherness for the week," Clark said, scraping his tines against his plate, trying to get the last crumbs of his tiny piece. "Still, I'm not fat."

"Merely larger," Kal-El countered, sighing again and Clark rolled his eyes when the window frosted over. If his brother noticed, it did not stop him from speaking. "Clark?" And his tone was hesitant.

Frowning, Clark looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"Jonathan is going with us to unload you, correct?"

"You're coming?"

"I have said I shall. Everything is heavy and it is hot this fall, Indian Summer. You could use the assistance and, with his heart, he should not lift anything."

"Yeah, I know," Clark replied, forcing thoughts of his red K crime spree and his mother's miscarriage from his mind. It was hard when he could just make out the brand on his brother's chest from the way his t-shirt stretched tightly over his torso. He had had that mark too and knew it hurt, would always be mildly painful for Kal-El.

"Then it is best I come."

"The 'we're just twins; ignore Smallville being weird' spiel."

"You were adopted. We are merely reunited after some time apart."

"That's one way to put it," Clark said, sipping his lemonade. "I...why do you want to know? You and dad don't really get along."

"If I am making amends with you, it may be best to do something similar with Jonathan."

Clark frowned. Kal-El had no idea that dad had approached him and asked him to help him banish Kal-El, that his dad was really scared that Kal-El was going to conquer Earth and be Jor-El's errand boy, basically. "I don't know if that's going to work out. I mean, please don't flash fry the messenger, but I don't think dad's ready for an olive branch."

Kal-El nodded stiffly. "But perhaps it is best to try. Virgil had a point that what kind of leader could I be if I cannot even learn to work with both of my adoptive parents."

"I don't want you to get your hopes up. I mean, mom and Chloe really like you and Lois...well she's so Lois about everything, you know?"

"She seems to think of us as younger brothers."

"Yeah, like that, but more noogies for me. Dad might never come around, Kal-El."

"Do you know something I do not?"

Clark looked down at his empty plate. He couldn't tell Kal-El what he knew, not because he didn't trust his brother or want to see him hurt. He just didn't think the other man could handle it. "Oh, just things in conversation, you know? He's kind of been snippy like I have. It's a process, you know? Mom came around."

"You know more than you are saying."

"Kal-El just try and be realistic."

"I want to die," Clark said, curling up on his stupid twin bed. It wasn't even an extra long and his feet hung off the end. That was going to keep him awake all freaking year.

"Sweetie," his mom said. "You should take a rest. I snagged a bottle of water from the commons room."

Sitting up, Clark took a large swig. "Ugh, it's a hundred degrees and I'm on the third floor and they have no AC. This really sucks."

His brother would show up then, dressed in a long-sleeved button down no less, whistling and carrying the heavy bookcase in one hand as if it weighed nothing at all. Bastard wasn't sweating one drop and Clark was covered, as if he'd jumped into a swimming pool. "It is not so bad, although you do reek."

His mother thumped Kal-El on the back of the head, being careful enough not to break her fingers. "I keep telling you two not to fight."

"We're doing better," Clark admitted, still drinking. "He's just annoying."

"Mother, he hurt my feelings."

Mom rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You said he smelled. If you two can't get it in your heads that no one is my favorite. I'm promoting Shelby to son and locking the doors for Thanksgiving."

"Mom!"

"Mother!"

"That's what I thought. You're eighteen, you can be mature."

"Maybe," Clark said, staring at the empty half of his double. Well, at least he could have a double. If he still floated in his sleep, he'd have had to jump university hoops to protect his secret. "It sucks that Chloe had her DP interview today and that dad had to run errands in Granville."

"Yeah, true," his mother said, biting her lip.

Clark sighed, knowing that his dad had completely made up any errands in order to avoid spending time with Kal-El. Clark just hoped he wasn't on another mission, searching local areas for more black K. Dr. Swann certainly wouldn't give him any and, even if he could, it just seemed mean to get rid of Kal-El now, even if he was a total snot.

Kal-El sat down on the other bed and shook his head. "He was not that busy, was he?"

"Baby-"

"I understand. I was still most useful in our move in."

Clark blinked. " Our ?"

"Did mother forget to tell you? The reason Sull-I-Van is applying for the internship is because both of us have decided to stay longer in Metropolis."

"You have a penthouse!"

"I would like to experience college as human youth do."

"Mom! He can't live with me. This room is 180 square feet. We'll kill each other."

"Then Shelby can be my favorite," she chirped. "This will be good for both of you. You both need to learn to share."

"Besides, Clark," Kal-El replied and was he leering? What the Hell? "Merely tell the sorority girls you meet that you are a twin."

His mother broke the alarm clock hitting him over the head with it. "Not a funny joke."

Kal-El shrugged. "But Clark is so easy to manipulate. Look at him, how he sputters."

Clark was just gaping at the utter wrongness of his brother's suggestion. It was a joke sure, but just no. "Ugh, I hate you."