Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Scouting

Chapter Four: Independent Reading

"Now, this is the point where we go around and all say what our favorite part of the weekend was." Superman smiled.

They had all be gathered in the Cave's common room and stood in a circle for what the Boy Scout called 'taps'. 'Taps' was actually the name a song sung during closing ceremonies, but the moment the Superman had opened his mouth and begun the first verse, everyone had groaned loudly and begged the Big Blue Boy Scout to please, for the love of whatever omnipotent power he believed in, please not sing. They would do anything! Just please don't sing or, more importantly, don't make them sing!

So, fine then. They had continued with the Superman's 'closing ceremony'. After this they could all go home. Well, all but Conner and M'gann, they lived at the Cave and had to stay here. Poor them.

"Who wants to go first?" Clark peered around the circle of fledgling heroes. If no one volunteered he would pick someone. "Wally, what was your favorite part of this weekend?"

The young speedster glared distastefully at the Boy Scout. He was severely tempted to tell the man that his favorite part of the weekend had been Saturday morning before Bats brought the Superman over. But he figured that would not be in his best interest. He was almost free, after this he could go home. Might as well just suffer through it, the sooner it was over, the sooner he could go home.

"Breakfast was cool." He muttered. "I liked the Flash pancake."

The rest of the Team reluctantly nodded. Pancakes flipped in the air that looked liked things were pretty cool.

"Snapps for Wally." Said the Boy Scout, and to accompany this he snapped his fingers several times. Apparently, in this 'closing ceremony' of his you were supposed to snap after a person shared. My god! It was like that stupid gimmick from the second Legally Blond movie, only without an airhead blond clad all in pink.

Then he nodded to Artemis.

"What?" The fem fatal archer crossed her arms over her chest.

"What was your favorite part of this weekend?"

She swallowed a growl. This was almost over. It was almost over. Almost over. Just get through this and she could go home. Just get through this. Get through this.

"I liked the hike." She lied through her teeth.

Superman smiled. "Snapps for Artemis."

Kaldur was next, and it was no surprise that he most enjoyed the basket weaving, and he wasn't fibbing either. Out of the entire Team, the atlantian warrior and M'gann were the two that were actually ending the day on a high note.

Snapps for Kaldur.

On Robin's turn, the boy growled and said with a plastic grin and a trollish-voice, "Oh, I loved cleaning the kitchen best of all, Uncle Sueps. It was super-special-awesome fun!"

Superman had frowned at that, but given him snapps all the same.

M'gann bubbled and bounced when it came to her turn and she said with enthusiasm that it was the candle making she most enjoyed. No surprise there. The common room was filled with her exotic looking wax sculptures that just so happened to have wicks poking out their tops.

Snapps for M'gann.

…And then they came to Conner.

He glared daggers at the Man of Steel, as if willing the man to simply drop dead from the sheer intensity of his gaze. Superman seemed unfazed as he stared back at his clone with calm indifference, waiting for the boy to speak. He was the last one, all he had to do was say what his favorite part of the weekend was and this would all be over and the rest of the Team could go home. The rest of the Team could go home, but he would have to stay here with Superman…

"This is stupid." He finally said, not for the first time that day. He broke the circle and stomped off to his room, slamming the sliding door shut with a resounding swish-THUNK that echoed down the corridor and made Clark wonder if he'd just broken the door.

Everyone stared in silence after him.

Superman cleared his throat. "Well, my favorite part about this weekend was seeing all the clever and creative ways you kids came up with to try and take me down."

They gaped at him, disbelieving. He smiled back.

"Well, that's it." He said, intentionally avoiding further comment on their attempts to subdue him. "It's a school night, so go home and go to bed. Sleep tight and don't let the-"

"I will pay you any amount of money to not finish that old cliché!" Robin illustrated this by reaching into his belt and pulling out a rather ordinary looking civilian wallet.

Superman sputtered for a moment then sighed. "Put that away, Robin."

They broke circle, the Team all going to their separate rooms to pack their things up to go home.

"I don't get it," Wally muttered, "how'd he know what we were doing and if he knew, why didn't he try to stop us?"

"Batman probably told him." Robin guessed. Clark just didn't have the powers of observation or deductive reasoning to figure out what they had been planning. Or what they were actually capable of. "As to why he didn't try to stop us, it's probably some unnecessarily complicated and convoluted tactic to teach us a random and mundane life-lesson, or something. He does that."

…

It was as Wally was just about to step into the zetta-tube that would take him home when Conner grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

The genomorph leaned in close to the young speedster and whispered, "Dude, lemme stay at your place this week."

"Huh?" The Kid Flash blinked back at the Superboy. "I'd love to have you over, Supey, but its not like back in the summer when you stayed at my place. I got school. And unlike you, I actually need sleep. My parents have a strict 'no sleep-overs' on school nights rule. Besides, you'll have to zetta back here on the way to your school anyway. It'd be easier for you to just stay here."

Conner cast a wary glance back to the corridor that separated the zetta hangar from the common area –where Superman currently was.

"Please, Wally." Begged the Superboy.

"Sorry, man." The speedster patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. "But, hey, now you finally get to get to know Superman. That's what you always wanted, right?"

Conner looked like he was about to kill something.

…

He felt the man's eyes watching him as he kissed M'gann goodnight in front of her bedroom door. Her body was pressed against his, both hands hung round his neck, her lips parted slightly begging his tongue to enter… but he didn't. His kiss was a chase one. Lips to lips, mouth closed, tongue unmoving –a cold kiss by their standards. And yet, Conner could feel Superman's disapproving glare burning into the back of his neck.

They broke apart, Conner moving away first.

/'Aren't you coming to bed?'/ She silently asked.

/'I'm going to my own bed tonight.'/ He replied, shaking his head and refusing to glance behind him at his genetic parent.

/'Because of this morning?'/

/'Yes.'/ The Superboy admitted. /'But not for the reason you think. Superman told me something… It's apparently illegal for us to sleep together, and we can't stay on the Team if we break the law.'/

/'What?'/ M'gann blinked up at him. /'That's the most ridiculous… why can't we have sex?'/

/'Apparently, you have to be eighteen to have sex.'/

/'That sounds made-up!'/ The martian girl crossed her arms over her chest. /'I'm going to look that up. I don't believe it.'/

She retreated into her room. Conner sighed and headed for his own, finally flashing one short but loathsome glare at his genetic-parent as he did so.

…

One of the great things about being kryptonian was that your body stored solar energy more efficiently than any man-made battery or organic organism native to Earth. This meant that kryptonins living under a yellow sun didn't need to eat quite as much or as often as normal humans, they had longer endurance, and did not require anywhere near as much sleep as a normal human being.

It was this last gift of his kryptonian heritage that Conner was rather unappreciative of at the moment.

He had gone to his own room after kissing M'gann good night, changed into his pajamas, climbed into his closet, leaned against the wall and fallen asleep. That had been three hours ago. He was now wide awake and bored out of his skull. Usually when this happened he would just lean over in bed and coax M'gann into some late night sex. But that wasn't an option now.

He began going over his mental checklist of everything that had to be done before school. Homework? Check. Done on Friday after he got back to the Cave. Essay on a current event for history? Done. A human-interest piece he'd cut out of the Daily Planet, by a reporter named Clark Kent. Pages 234 – 236 in his math textbook. Easy and done. His Cadmus programming had told him the answers without him ever having to work through the problems himself. Physics? Also easily done, also thanks to his programming. English? He had long since finished reading 1984 for class; he just needed to choose in independent reading book. Stupid independent reading project.

With a groan of annoyance, Conner climbed out of his closet. He always felt more comfortable sleeping vertical in a tight space whenever he was sleeping alone. He exited his room, on his way to the Cave's library to find a book.

Conner had to pass through the common room on his way there and much to the young Superboy's chagrin, he found Superman also awake, sitting on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table with a laptop resting on his knees. The man seemed to be absorbed in typing… something and Conner hoped he could sneak by without drawing the man's attention. He did not want to be subjected to camp songs and overly cheerful speeches first thing after waking up. Superboy crept behind the couch on his tiptoes, trying his very best not to make a sound. His genetic parent's hearing was just as good as his own (possibly better). Conner figured if he could hear himself, then it was a safe bet that Superman could hear him too.

"I see you inherited my sleeping habits." The man commented without turning around.

Damn it!

He clicked the 'save' icon on his document and set the computer aside. He then lowered his feet from the coffee table and turned around to face his clone. "But then again, you practically are me, so it's to be expected."

That line was said with an almost scathing tone and Conner wondered, not for the first time, if Superman viewed him and his creation as a form of 'identity theft'. He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet, not willing to demure under the man's passive aggressive barb. "I'm not exactly like you." He said. "I can't fly."

(Or do a bunch of other things that Superman could, but why give a list.)

The Superboy expected him to respond with something equally scathing like, 'I've heard you can't hold your temper either.' But he didn't. Instead, the Superman looked slightly confused.

"Why would you?" He asked.

"Why would I what?"

"Fly?" Clarified the Boy Scout.

"You can fly." Conner growled, suddenly very annoyed with his genetic-parent, well, more so than before. "You say I practically am you, but you can fly and I can't."

"Yeah, but I'm over thirty. You're me when I was fifteen."

"Sixteen."

"Whatever." Clark shrugged. "The point is, of course you can't fly now because I couldn't fly back then."

A bright warm feeling that felt suspiciously like hope welled up within Conner and he suddenly wasn't annoyed with Superman anymore. In fact, for giving him that singular piece of information he rather wanted to hug the man.

"Let's see… sixteen…" Superman was saying. "Gosh that was so long ago. You must have super-strength. Well, obviously you do. I saw you almost lifting that bus back in August."

"I was lifting that bus." And now he was back to being annoyed with him. "I told you I had that."

Superman pretended not to hear him. "And then you should also have invulnerability, super-hearing, infrared vision –telescopic should manifest next, followed by X-ray and then heat would come last in that line. Have you got super-speed yet?"

"No." A growl.

"Hm, give it a couple months." He tapped his chin as if in thought. "When did my super-breath manifest…?"

"So," Conner interrupted him. "Since you know what all my powers will be, when they'll manifest and how to use them… why don't you want to mentor me?"

There. He had said it. He had asked the question he'd been wanting to ask since August.

Superman fell silent.

Conner waited.

Superman avoided the boy's eyes.

Conner glared at the man.

The silence dragged on… One could almost see the metaphorical elephant in the room as the two men remained that way, unspeaking, unmoving. They were less than two feet apart, but for all intents and purposes they might as well have been worlds away from one another.

"Fine." Conner finally snapped, breaking the silence. "Don't tell me. I don't really care all that much anyway. I really just asked out of curiosity. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to find a book for school"

"What book?" Superman asked and Conner couldn't tell if he was feigning interest in an attempt to make peace or if his sudden interest was genuine. Conner also couldn't tell why in the name all that was camp he actually found himself answering the man.

"Don't know yet." He shrugged. "Its an independent assignment. We get to choose our books."

A pause. And then, "You might like Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep by Philip Dick or Friday by Robert Heinlein."

"Thanks." The boy said, completely devoid of any sort of gratitude. "I'll be sure to look for those." So that I know what to avoid.

He made his way to the library. Found Philip Dick and Robert Heinlein in the sci-fi section and proceeded past them strait to action-suspense. There, he found an author he did not expect: Clark Kent. Three book by him. Conner had already done several current event assignments using the man's articles, he wrote mostly about social issues like homelessness, the displaced, the effects of economic down-turn, the correlation between lower-education and likelihood of crime, etc. Conner liked him and found himself wondering just what kind of fiction he would write.

He pulled one of the books off the shelf, Under the Yellow Sun, and read the plot synopsis on the inside flap of the dust cover. It sounded interesting enough. Why not? He flipped to the title page and saw that it had been signed by the author.

'To the Super Friends… I mean Justice Club… I mean League,

'Thanks for reading. Ha! I know none of you will ever have the time to read this, but thanks for buying it. This'll probably end-up propping up a crooked table leg in someone's base (three guesses who's).

'But, whatever. Hugs and kisses!

'-CK'

What a weird note to write, and to the Justice League of America of all things. Mr. Kent obviously had a strange sense of humor. Conner flipped to the back inside flap of the dust cover where they usually printed a few words about the author and paused to study the black and white photo of the man. One word rang out through the Superboy's mind as he looked at that picture… 'NERD!'

Clark Kent was the spitting image of the stereotypical bookworm, know-it-all, brain trust, nerd. From his perfectly combed dark hair to his large thick and utterly unflattering horn-rimmed glasses, Mr. Kent looked like he could have walked out of one of those TV sit-coms M'gann was always watching. Conner actually snorted in amusement. But whatever, he was still going to read it.

Book in hand, the Superboy returned to the common room. Superman had apparently finished typing whatever it was he had been typing and was e-mailing the document to someone.

"What are you doing?" The boy found himself asking before he could stop himself.

"Waving at deadlines as I pass them by." Smiled the Boy Scout. Conner didn't understand and he didn't ask for a clarification. Superman seemed perfectly content to leave it at that, vague and cryptic. Fine. "So, did you find a book?"

"That's a stupid question." The boy answered. "I was in a library. Of course I found a book, I found lots of them. What did you expect me to find in a library? Model airplanes?"

Superman offered him a strained smile, as if he were trying not to louse his patience. "I meant, did you find a book for school."

"Not that it's any business of yours, but yes, I did." He held up Under a Yellow Sun for his to see, the author's name in big bold print at the top of the front cover. Conner couldn't figure out why the Man of Steel suddenly looked so shocked. "What?"

"You… that…" He cleared his throat and composed himself. "I thought that was propping up a table in the Batcave. Did Batman give you that?"

"No." The boy blinked in confusion. "It was in the library."

Of course it was. Bruce probably stashed it there when they re-opened the Cave intending for this to happen. "What made you choose Kent?"

Conner shrugged. "I like his newspaper articles. I didn't know he wrote fiction too. I though I might give it a try."

"You read his articles?"

Why did Superman suddenly appear to be having trouble breathing? Did he not like Kent or something? Come to think of it, Clark Kent worked for the Daily Planet, the same newspaper that Lois Lane worked for and Lane wrote more Superman stories than any other person in the world. It was widely speculated that she and Superman knew each other personally. Maybe Superman also knew Kent personally, since he must work close to Lane… Maybe he didn't like the nerd?

"What's the matter with you? Do you not like him or something?"

"No, I… he's…" A sputter, choke, stutter, swear in kryptonian. "It's not the sort of thing I expected you to read."

"Have you read it?"

A pause. "Yes…"

"Well then, don't spoil anything and keep your comments to yourself."

…