Rating: T
Where else can I find this story? All five parts are on the first page of Part 5 of the original Young Justice Anon Meme on LiveJournal.
Summary: Lex Luthor is in prison, and Superboy is given a mission to protect the man who put him there: Clark Kent. But what Conner doesn't know... (Part V of Masks, from the Anon Meme).
Hero
Masks, Part V
Chapter 3: Mild Mannered Mr. Kent
Connor waits for Clark Kent to leave Wayne Enterprises from the Starbucks across the street. Mr. Kent stands awkwardly in front of the lobby, and a crappy red car drives up in front of him. Connor scans the car—no sign of bombs or other tampering. A man in a uniform gets out of the car and hands the keys to Mr. Kent, who takes them and gets in. Mr. Kent drives to the Planet and Superboy follows on foot.
He watches Mr. Kent park the car and go into the building and take the elevator upstairs. Conner keeps an eye on Mr. Kent from his perch, until around 11 a.m., when Jimmy Olsen breezes into the office.
"CK! You'll never guess who I bumped into last night?"
"Who?"
"Superboy. He was super cool, but we didn't get a chance to talk, he had to go save the world."
"What's Superboy doing in Metropolis?" Then Mr. Kent turns around, and if Connor didn't know any better, he'd say that Mr. Kent was looking straight at him through the wall. But then Mr. Kent turns around and goes back to work.
At lunch though, Ms. Lane comes up to him.
"You know, Smallville knows you're following him. Jimmy blew your cover. He was just so excited about meeting you he didn't even stop to think about why you might be in Metropolis. Maybe, you could join us for lunch?"
"Really?"
"Yeah, come on."
So he gets up and follows her to a little diner where Clark Kent and Jimmy Olsen are already sitting. The whole five minutes it takes to walk there stretch out into an eternity, which he fills with thoughts of what to say to Mr. Clark Kent when he finally gets to meet him.
Olsen waves enthusiastically and Mr. Kent sort of smiles awkwardly. Conner feels his stomach sink. He thinks he'd rather face Luthor again than find out that Mr. Kent doesn't like him either. Ms. Lane lets him sit down across the table from Mr. Kent, and then she slides in next to him. She hails over the waitress and quickly orders, "Turkey meatloaf, baked potato, no butter, no soup, salad, house dressing on the side, large diet coke, no ice."
Mr. Kent opens his mouth, but before he can order, Ms. Lane rattles off another order, "Chicken cob salad, dressing on the side, diet coke."
Olsen jumps in: "Tuna melt, sweet potato fries, sprite, with lemon."
Ms. Lane turns to him, "What'll you be having?"
He looks at the menu, nothing looks particularly appetizing. "I guess I'll have the BLT on wheat bread."
"Do you want salad or fries with that?" the waitress asks.
"Salad."
"And to drink?"
"Lemonade?"
"Perfect," the waitress smiles. "I'll bring that right over."
Once she leaves, Mr. Kent pouts. "I wanted a burger with fries and a milkshake."
"I know," Ms. Lane answers dourly. "I'm going to go wash my hands."
Mr. Kent frowns. "She's still mad at me."
"Well, you did lock her out of the story of the century, CK. But she's only doing it because she cares. You should really watch what you eat-we don't want you to have a heart attack like your dad did last year."
Mr. Kent just sighs. Then he looks up to face Connor.
Mr. Kent looks up, straight at Conner and pushes his glasses up. The man's eyes are impossibly blue, the kind of clear crystal that immediately inspires confidence. But there's something strange in the man's eyes, something that fills Conner's stomach with dread, so before Mr. Kent has the opportunity to open his mouth, Conner opens up his satchel and takes out his book on Jor-El and asks Mr. Kent for his autograph, offering the book and a pen across the table.
Mr. Kent looks down at the well-worn book, then back up to face him. "You want my autograph?"
"Please."
"Don't do it Kent," Ms. Lane interrupts, "everything he says is off the record."
Except, that when Mr. Lane says it, Conner realizes that it's not true. Batman told him to tell Ms. Lane that everything was off the record, but he said nothing about Mr. Kent.
"Why?" Mr. Kent asks.
"Batman's orders," he explains.
"No, why do you want my autograph?"
The answer that immediately comes to his mind is "Because you're awesome," but Conner stops himself from saying it. "Because you wrote my favorite book, and because you put Lex Luthor behind bars, and that's something neither Superman nor Batman could do."
"And why is this your favorite book?"
Conner shifts uncomfortably. It was one thing to explain to Ms. Lane in the park, but he doesn't want to say it out loud again, not in front of Jimmy Olsen, not to Mr. Kent. Batman told him Mr. Kent and Superman are good friends; he doesn't want to admit to Mr. Kent that Superman doesn't like him. It might give Mr. Kent the wrong impression.
"Because it's good," he answers, like he answered Ms. Lane at first.
Ms. Lane rolls her eyes and snatches the book away from Mr. Kent. "Sheesh Smallville, you want to scoop me on everything, don't you? Well it's not going to happen." She takes out a pen, and then she smiles. "So, to whom do I make it out?"
Conner knows where he's going with this. Ms. Lane is like Batman. He smiles back. "Superboy will be just fine, Ms. Lane."
"Of course." She scribbles out a note and hands the book to Mr. Kent who signs it and gives it back to him. Conner opens the book to read:
Superboy,
I'll get that interview yet!
Lois Lane
And immediately below that, Clark Kent.
He smiles and puts the book away, but as soon as he does, an awkward silence falls on the table. Finally, it's Mr. Kent that breaks it: "You should have gotten the fries. The fries here are amazing."
"Don't listen to him kid—he's from Smallville. He wouldn't know good food if it bit him."
"That's not true!" Mr. Kent protests.
"Ok, there's only one way to resolve this," Conner says, and he hails over the waitress. "Could we get an order of fries for the table?"
"Sure thing, sweetie," she answers and scurries away.
When the food comes, he tries the French fries. Ms. Lane already likes him; Mr. Kent is just making up his mind, so he sides with Mr. Kent. "These are great!" he exclaims, pumping delight into his voice, even though the fries are only slightly better than the ones at the school cafeteria and still a little too greasy for his tastes.
"Told you so," Mr. Kent says proudly to Ms. Lane, but when he reaches for a fry, the woman slaps his hand away. "Ow! Lois!"
"Your father's a farmer and he had a heart attack last year. You sit at a desk all day and eat nothing but junk food. I don't even want to know what your cholesterol levels are like."
"Whatever, mother."
Conner can't help but snicker.
Lunch is awesome. Even Jimmy Olsen isn't that bad. He starts to talk about Superman, and how amazing it is that Superboy gets to hang out with Superman, but then he yelps and jumps and shuts up, and everything is fine from there. Ms. Lane is awesome. By the time the waitress comes along to offer them desert, Mr. Kent is smiling widely, and Connor's face almost hurts from grinning for so long.
Connor's about to say that he doesn't want dessert, but Mr. Kent says he's getting dessert and everyone else is too, on him. Connor looks over the offerings: they have like seven different kinds of pie, ice cream, fruit, waffles, and something called "Devil's food cake."
"What's devil's food cake?" he asks, because it sounds like the kind of thing a supervillain would eat.
"You don't know what devil's food cake is?" Jimmy asks, "Man have you been missing out. It's a moist, airy, rich chocolate cake. Here they put raspberry jam between the layers and they have a rich chocolate frosting."
"That sounds amazing," he says, "that's what I'm having."
Mr. Kent looks up, he looks a bit surprised. "The apple pie here is really good," he suggests.
Ms. Lane nods, "Yeah, all their pies are amazing. So's the devil's food though. I'm getting coffee and some cookie dough ice cream."
Jimmy nods. "Cherry pie for me."
So the waitress comes and takes their orders. It's not long before she scurries back. There's a ball of vanilla ice cream on his cake, which he hadn't been expecting, but he can't complain. Ms. Lane picks her ice cream up and plops it into her coffee. The minute the cake is in his mouth, he can't help but moan. It's amazing. Really incredibly good.
"This is so good!"
Mr. Kent raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, I have a friend who really likes it. You should try the pie though," he says, and pushes his plate onto Conner.
"That's ok," he answers, "I'm not really a big fan of apple pie."
"I'll take you up on the offer, CK," Jimmy says, and scoops up some of the pie. Mr. Kent looks a little scandalized, but then Ms. Lane goes back to talking about reality television, and it's all good.
Damn, that cake is delicious.
Mr. Kent picks up the tab. "I'm not paying rent, so it's only fair."
"I still can't believe Bruce friggin' Wayne is letting you stay in his apartment. The only way you could possibly get any luckier were if Superman let you stay at the Fortress of Solitude."
"Yeah Jimmy," Ms. Lane answers snidely, "Because there's nothing better than a commute from the North Pole."
Conner doesn't know what they're talking about, but it figures Superman would name his—whatever the Fortress of Solitude is—the Fortress of Solitude.
Once they're outside the dinner, Conner begins to awkwardly bid the trio goodbye, but Jimmy Olsen stops him. "Hey, if you're here looking after Clark, why don't you come with us into the Planet—it'd be a lot easier for you to protect him if you were in the building."
Ms. Lane nods, "Yeah, I doubt Perry would mind."
Mr. Kent shifts a bit uncomfortably before smiling and nodding, "Yeah, come on up."
Conner can't contain his excitement, "You mean I can see the Daily Planet newsroom?"
"Of course."
"So the aster!"
"What? Is that some new slang you kids are using these days?" Ms. Lane asks.
"No, at least, not any I've heard," Jimmy answers.
"No, it's the opposite of disaster," Mr. Kent clarifies.
"Yeah!" Conner nods, "how'd you know?"
Mr. Kent pushes his glasses back up. "What else would it be?"
"Robin will be so excited to know someone else thinks like him."
The Daily Planet newsroom is a thing of beauty. The sound of clicking keys and ringing phones is perhaps the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. People look up as they walk by, and they stare, but not for long.
Conner follows Mr. Kent to his desk, where a huge bunch of flowers is waiting.
"Secret admirer?" Conner asks.
"Not so secret," someone answers from behind.
It's a kid with black hair and impossibly expensive clothes. His hair is slicked back and everything about him sort of screams tool.
"Richard," Mr. Kent says slowly, "What are you doing in Metropolis?"
"School's out, and with Bruce in the boardroom from 7 in the morning until the early hours of the morning, the Manor's become a real drag. I talked Bruce into letting me come up to Metropolis with a few friends. You know, since you can party here without getting shanked. And since I was coming, Bruce asked me to bring you a little token of appreciation."
"Oh, you needn't have bothered. I was just doing my job."
"I know. And that's what I told the B-Man. Still, he wanted to send you a message. You know Bruce. Also, there's a card."
Richard takes a card from his pocket and hands it over to Mr. Kent, who reads it. Despite the fact that the card is supposed to be a thank you from Wayne, Mr. Kent doesn't look happy reading it.
"Well." Is all he says, before putting the card in a drawer and moving the flowers out of the way.
Then Richard catches a glimpse of Conner and smiles widely: "Hey Clark, is that your kid?"
"No, I haven't got any children," Mr. Kent answers tersely. "That's Superboy."
"Ah. I see. I see." And before Conner has a chance to process what's going on, the kid has hugged him and snapped a picture of the two together. "We'll laugh about this some day." And then he dashes out of the newsroom, like a little evil ninja.
"I take it that was Richard Grayson?"
"Indeed."
"Weird kid."
"You don't know the half of it." Kent picks up the flowers—they're enormous—and starts trying to move them off his desk.
"Can I help you with that?"
"Sure," Mr. Kent says, "I was just going to throw them out. I'm allergic."
"Oh, yeah, I can do that." He takes the flowers from Mr. Kent, and starts to make his way away from him, when he realizes it'd be a waste of flowers to just throw them away. There's no way he's going to regift the flowers to M'gann, she's too far away anyway, and he's stuck here, but he figures Ms. Lane would probably like them.
She does like them, and even if he's regifting the flowers Clark Kent was going to throw away, she appreciates the gesture.
"Ms. Lane," he asks, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"How'd you become such a good reporter?"
"You know that little voice in the back of your head? The one that tells you something is a really bad idea and you probably shouldn't do it?"
"Yeah?"
"I usually ignore it."
"Sounds like a good way to get killed."
"Yep. But there are things in this world worth dying for. And a Pulitzer Prize is one of them. Besides, it helps that there's a big blue boyscout to catch you when terrorists cut the cable of the elevator you're hiding under."
"So you and Superman?"
"Just good friends."
He smiles. "And Mr. Kent?"
She laughs. It's not a pleasant laugh. "Me and Smallville?"
"You make a pretty good team."
"Yeah, so do Laurel and Hardy. Doesn't mean they should date one another. Besides, I'm pretty sure Clark's gay. I've never seen him with a woman, he's never talked about a girlfriend, and a few years ago, when we all got dosed with a crazy lust potion, I was throwing myself at him, and he wouldn't touch me."
"Maybe he just didn't want to take advantage of you?"
"Listen kid, Clark's handsome, clever, moderately famous, well groomed, and a perfect gentleman, and yet his last girlfriend was Lana Lang in high school? He's gotta be gay."
"I guess…" he answers, but he isn't convinced.
To be continued...
Author's Notes: Nothing much to add. Reviews are always welcome. I'll try to have a less stupid update schedule.