Hope you like it so far! I'll accept questions and comments.

Chapter 2

Like always, Conner awoke to the annoying sound of Clark's alarm clock. A few seconds later, he heard the button being pressed and the sound of springs letting go of weight. He was always mildly amazed at how easily Clark could get up in the morning. A few years ago he once heard Wally say that Superman only needed a couple of hours of sleep. Conner still didn't know if that was true, but Clark always went to bed at 10:30 and was up by six. Maybe he only sleeps for a few of those hours and then just lies in bed for the rest of the time to feel normal, Conner often wondered.

When Conner heard the sound of Clark's door opening, he braced himself for their usual horrific morning routine: Clark comes in and turns on the lights, temporarily blinding Conner, then squeezes his sides until Conner sits up. Then, Clark will go and make breakfast, all the while calling for Conner to "hurry up!" for the next fifteen minutes.

"I'll never know why it takes you so long to get dressed." Clark would always say, completely unaware that Conner spends fourteen of those fifteen minutes sleeping.

This morning was different.

Conner moaned as Clark shook him. "Come on, Conner, wake up. It's time for school."

Conner rolled over, away from Clark. "No." He declared, though his voice was muffled by his pillow.

"I am not doing this with you today. Get up." Conner didn't move. "Now!"

"I'm sick."

"No you aren't."

"I have a fever."

"You do not."

"I don't wanna go."

"You have finals soon; you need to go to the study sessions in your classes today."

"Honors classes don't have study sessions!"

"All the more reason to go. Hurry or you'll be late."

Conner sighed and got up, but Clark took his comforter just for good measure.

"Hey!"

"Get dressed." Was all Clark said on his way out the door.

Conner groaned loud enough for Clark to hear him, but got up and dressed.

Conner put on his jeans and boots with his black tee-shirt on under the red plaid button up Clark made him wear along with boxy glasses that misshaped his eyes. "You need a secret identity," was all Clark had said to justify it.

Conner stared at his reflection in the mirror like he does every morning and sighed. He had been teased in school for his farm-boy look many times before and it would happen many times to come. Kids never said anything to his face of course; he was still very large and often kept to himself. They were probably afraid he would beat them up. A few years ago he might have, but Conner was much calmer now. Or, he used to be. Day by day, his anger came out in brief bursts whenever he fought with Clark. Conner closed his eyes and sighed.

"Conner, let's go!" Clark called impatiently.

Conner trudged through his door, down the hall, and into the main room of the apartment. It doubled as the kitchen, complete with a stove, oven, microwave, toaster and counter, and the living room, complete with a couch, two chairs, a coffee table, television set, and shelves of books and CD's. Clark stood at the stove, scrambling eggs. Suddenly, the toaster dinged and two pieces of toast popped up.

Clark threw a glance at Conner as he walked in. "Morning." He said stiffly.

"Morning." Conner responded in the same tone.

Conner groggily sat down at the counter and rubbed his eyes. He heard Clark cut both pieces of toast diagonally down the center, then the scraping sound of him buttering them. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of a plate carefully being set in front of him. Conner smelled the perfectly scrambled eggs and toast right under his nose. He moved his hands away to look at them and suddenly had a flashback.

"Gee, you sure know how to cook for a bachelor." Conner joked one morning when Clark had made the greatest pancakes he had ever tasted.

Clark laughed heartily. "I'm sure you just think they taste good since all you've had is your girlfriend's cooking, which I heard is not the greatest."

Conner nodded. "That is true," he had said while picking up his fork.

Clark leaned on the counter next to him with a strange look on his face. "Listen, Conner… about the whole 'bachelor' situation…."

"Conner!"

Conner jumped a foot and looked up at Clark, who he hadn't heard calling his name.

"Huh?"

"I said, are you alright?" Clark said, looking worried.

Conner quickly picked up his fork and dug into his eggs. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Clark just looked at him.

You're recent behavior is making him worry, the voice in his head told him last night. Conner did his best to ignore it.

Clark leaned over on the counter and dug into his eggs as well. Conner could feel Clark glancing up at him repeatedly. They ate in silence.

Now, Conner was often told by members of the Justice League that he and Clark were a lot alike: not completely, but they had some things in common, like most parents and their children. Conner never really knew what they meant, since he himself had not seen any similarities at first: Conner liked vanilla; Clark preferred chocolate. Conner liked red; Clark liked blue. Conner liked rock music, but Clark liked peace and quiet. Clark used his words; Conner used his fists. Conner had always thought that besides their looks, they were two completely different people.

But soon, he realized what it was that everyone was talking about; it wasn't what Conner and Clark liked and didn't like- it was quirks, habits. Like they both got quiet and nervous in awkward situations, they both tended to adjust their boxy glasses quite often, and they both piled their eggs on top of their toast, like they were doing now.

As they ate, Conner wondered how two people who were said to be a lot alike disagree on so much? If they were almost the same, wouldn't they see things the same way?

Conner remembered what Robin had said to him once; "Just because you're his clone doesn't mean that you're the same person. Don't be so surprised." Robin was becoming a man of few words, just like his mentor.

He heard a clattering sound as Clark put his empty plate and fork in the sink to be washed later. He reached for Conner's, but he muttered an "I got it," and got up to clear his plate himself. Clark, as polite as he was, didn't stop him. He knew that even though Conner's anger had died down, he still did not like being told 'no.'

"Got your stuff?" Clark asked him. Conner held up his backpack, pleasingly flat since juniors did not have to take as many classes as the lower classmen.

"Good. I'll drive you." Conner, who was still tired, didn't oppose.

In The Car

"Can't I drive?"

Clark looked at Conner from behind his glasses. "You got your license, little boy?"

Conner scowled. "No."

"Then get in." Conner got in the passenger's seat, leaned back and sighed.

"Don't say you don't want to go, because you have to." Clark said without taking his eyes off the road.

"I hate it." Conner said defiantly. Clark sighed.

"All teenagers hate school. When you're older, you'll be dying to go back."

Conner rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure," he said sarcastically. "What person wouldn't want to go back to a place where the teachers are out for you, the schoolwork is near impossible and harshly graded, and everyone mocks the clothes that you are forced to wear?"

"That's a typical teenager complaint." Clark said without looking at Conner, who he saw throw him a dirty look anyway. "I'm sure that it's not really as bad."

"Oh, of course not!" Conner cried overdramatically, making Clark scowl. "It's not like going to work, where everything is perfect."

"Oh, definitely, work is perfect!" Clark said forcefully. "Who wouldn't love deadlines, cramped offices, speed typing, and a boss who's always yelling in your ear? Believe me, kid, you'll want to go back to school."

"That's a typical parental response." Conner said while looking straight ahead. They were both silent for a few minutes.

"And don't call me 'kid!'"

Metropolis High

Conner opened the door before the car came to a complete stop, something that drove Clark crazy, even though Conner's repeatedly told him that he is invulnerable. Before Clark could say anything about it, Conner had gotten out and slammed the door without mumbling so much as a good-bye, like he usually does.

Clark watched him hurry through the crowds of students, up the wide stone stairs, and disappear inside. Clark sat in his car and watched Conner go. When it was clear that he wouldn't come back to wave him good-bye, Clark sighed and drove off.

Conner made his way through the semi crowded hallways, careful to keep his head down. Since he enrolled at Metropolis High midyear, his locker was toward the back of the school.

Conner sped walked past small crowds of people who glanced at him. Because of his super hearing, he only caught bits of conversation.

"-Totally need a new phone-"

"-I mean, could my parents get any dumber?"

"-Look, there's that cute boy, Conner-"

"-He would be a lot cooler if he didn't dress like he worked at a zoo-"

"-And what's with those glasses, I mean, it's 2014, get contacts!"

Conner scowled and walked faster, but no matter how fast he walked, they were always there, judging him. They didn't know anything about him! He hated his clothes and glasses too, but there was nothing he could do about it. Clark did not tolerate him violating his safety. Conner frowned. He was glad that the girls on his team were much nicer. Especially M'gann.

Conner smiled. He always felt better when he thought about M'gann. She was so nice, and thoughtful, and fun, and pretty- so different than he was, but they were made for each other.

Suddenly, he was slammed into a locker.

"Watch it!" Said one large boy as he and his friends barreled past. Football players, Conner thought disgustedly. After making sure he didn't dent the locker he had been shoved into, Conner continued walking.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Conner made it to his locker. He opened it, and was met with piles of sketch pads and loose drawings. Conner looked through the sketches, pictures of his friends, and finally found what he was looking for- his schedule. His school had the block schedule, which was okay, though sometimes stressful. Conner looked at the C day section and moaned.

History. He had to have History first. And long Chemistry Honors, too- an hour and a half of hearing about chemical equations and getting yelled at by his crazy teacher. "Yay." He muttered. At least Art with Miss Mazur was right after.

Conner sighed. He looked through the pictures of his friends smiling up at him- Megan, Artemis, Wally, Robin, Kaldur and Zatanna. Conner couldn't help but smile back. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.

Then the bell rang.

Conner gathered up his history text book, composition book, and folder and headed down to the history, or 'yellow' wing (named for its yellow wall, floor and ceiling tiles). He walked as slowly as possible, but kids pushed passed him rather violently, so he picked up his pace and was at his classroom a lot sooner than he would have liked.

Conner walked into to an almost full classroom and nearly ran right into his sour faced history teacher, Mrs. Thorburne.

"You're late, Mr. Kent." She scowled at him.

"The bell hasn't rung yet," Conner said.

"I do not want excuses, Mr. Kent." Mrs. Thorburne's eyes narrowed in a dangerous way. "Have a seat."

Since arguing with a teacher like Mrs. Thorburne was absolutely useless, Conner turned and went to his seat, which was in the middle of the classroom. When other students came in after Conner and Mrs. Thorburne didn't even bat an eye, Conner leaned back and moaned. School was just fantastic.

When the bell finally rang, Mrs. Thorburne told the class to settle down. "Now, we will continue with the Revolutionary War. Mr. Fitzpatrick!"

Jason Fitzpatrick is the biggest slacker Conner has ever met. Conner heard that he was only in honors history because his lawyer parents forced him to. When he heard his name, Jason looked up from his phone. "Huh?"

"When did the Battle of Bunker Hill take place?"

"Uh… 1843?" Snickers erupted throughout the room.

"No, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Does anyone else know?" Conner raised his hand. "Anyone? No? Oh, well." She picked up her grade book and made a mark. Conner moaned and lowered his hand.

"Alright, how about this; what was the result of the Battle of Bunker Hill?"

Conner raised his hand. He was, of course, the only one who did. For an honors class, people were pretty shy.

"Hmmm…. Miss Elliot?"

Grace Elliot looked up. "Um… I think one side surrendered?" Conner raised his hand higher.

"Are you asking me or telling me, Miss Elliot?"

"Telling you?" Conner face palmed.

"Not quite, Miss Elliot. Does anyone think they know?" Conner didn't even bother.

After some note taking, Mrs. Thorburne announced that they were getting back their essays on the crossing of the Delaware River. Conner looked at is grade and sighed. C-; but what else was new?

When the bell rang, Conner mustered up his courage and went to Mrs. Thorburne's desk. She raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't think you want to be late for yet another class, Mr. Kent," she said.

"It's okay, I have a free." She frowned. It was a lie, of course, but Conner didn't mind missing Health.

She pursed her lips and folded her hands on her desk. "Very well, then, what is it?"

Conner held up his essay. "I was just wondering what I did wrong," he said in a slightly hostile tone. Mrs. Thorburne frowned.

"Why, you completely misunderstood the assignment," she said in a matter of fact tone.

"How so?" Conner tried to contain his annoyance.

"The essay was supposed to be from the point of view of a member of the Continental Army. You made it sound as if you were writing a paragraph for a textbook. It lacked emotion."

Conner scowled. "Actually, I did exactly-"

"I will not stand here and talk with you about this, Mr. Kent; I have another class to prep for. The grade on your essay is final. Good day."

Conner knew it was useless to argue. He scowled and headed for health.

For the next two periods, Conner wondered how a teacher had the nerve to purposefully fail a student- what did Conner even do to her, anyway? It didn't matter, though- she would never stop tormenting him, and Clark never believed him when he said that Mrs. Thorburne had it out for him anyway. And it's not like there was anyone else he could turn to who could do something. He chuckled as he thought about Black Canary threatening Mrs. Thorburne using her martial art skills.

The students jumped up and hurried out of the classroom when the bell for lunch rang. Since Conner had Chemistry long, he had the first lunch wave, which started at ten o'clock.

Although it was incredibly cliché, the cafeteria food was gross. He always forgot to pack lunch in the morning, which was not his fault, so he was forced to buy. Even though lunch was early, Conner always made sure he ate; once when he didn't his stomach made a dying whale sound during English. So Conner used his prepay ID, which is when you can download money on your lunch account from a credit card at home, then type your ID number into a keyboard at the cash register. It was quick and easy, and since Clark put twenty dollars on it every week, Conner never worried about running out.

Conner got in the lunch line and looked at his options; nachos with cheese sauce, premade sandwiches that look a decade old, questionable looking pizza, and a salad bar that needed to be cleaned. After a few seconds of debate, Conner grabbed what looked like a ham sandwich (even though it certainly didn't smell like one).

After he paid, Conner went over to his usual small table in the corner, took out The Great Gatsby, and started reading. He picked up his sandwich and took a bite- he could honestly say that even with super senses he had no idea what the hell he was eating. He read, ate, and grimaced for the next fifteen minutes, and when he considered buying a bag of air with chips in it, he felt his phone vibrate.

Conner took it out and checked the screen- it was his news app, which read: This Just In- Superman Fights Parasite on the Metropolis Bridge- Outcome Unclear.

Conner snorted and put his phone away- yeah, Clark, work is terrible. How much he would have loved to be there beating the shit out of Parasite….

He looked around and saw other students checking their phones and looking amazed. Conner caught conversations like "I bet Superman will beat the shit out of him" and "That fucking Parasite doesn't stand a chance against the Man of fucking Steel."

Finally, the bell rang and Conner was on his way to the blue wing for Chemistry. Mr. Pacer was a large, mustachioed man with a deep voice and glaring eyes. To him, Chemistry was no joke; he always reminded them of the many safety rules and went on about how dangerous it would be if they weren't followed. If anyone so much as told a joke in his class, they would be, in his words, "sent to the principal faster than you can recite 'Charlie was a Chemist'."

Once everyone was seated, Mr. Pacer began class. "Now, when I tell you to begin, you may head over to your lab stations and start your experiments. I want everyone in an apron and goggles with closed toed shoes. Ladies must put their hair up- yes, even you Miss Delinger. Remember, potassium iodide is slightly toxic, so be very careful when handling it. Silver nitrate can cause burns and staining of the eyes, throat, mouth and skin. You will very carefully mix these chemicals together to create a double replacement reaction. Use the lab packets I handed out yesterday in order to record your observations."

Conner stood up and headed to lab table five. He was soon joined by his assigned lab partner, Logan Rossi. Logan was very average, with a medium height and build, dark brown hair and thin glasses. He was quiet in class, and a little shy, but Conner found that he was nice and smiled a lot.

"Let's see." Logan picked up their packet and scanned over the procedure, his grey eyes flitting over the sentences. Conner took out their thick, grey lab aprons and goggles. He hated the goggles, which were cloudy and cut off his peripheral vision, but he also hated to be yelled at by Mr. Pacer in front of the whole class. He and Logan put on the aprons and goggles, and were about to start when Mr. Pacer came over and said; "You boys are forgetting your rubber gloves! These are toxic chemicals; you could very easily get burned." Mr. Pacer's cold eyes glared down at Logan, who was instantly paralyzed by the teacher's intimidating figure.

"I was just about to go get them," said Conner. Mr. Pacer glanced at him and then nodded. "Good. Hurry up, then."

Logan let out the breath he'd been holding when Mr. Pacer finally walked away. "I'll be quick," Conner said. He headed across the room and over to the side counter where the boxes of rubber gloves were kept. He was pulling out four when he heard Logan say, "Hey!"

Conner whirled around to see Evan Grable and his cronies, Greg and Toni, kicking at Logan as Evan held his delicate looking glasses over his head. Logan's hand was stretched high in the air and he jumped to try and get his glasses back, but he was nowhere near tall enough. Conner was over there in a flash.

Evan was big, but so was Conner. He stood directly in front of Evan, glaring daggers into his black eyes. Evan looked mildly surprised at first, then frowned.

"Back off, farm boy."

"Give me the glasses." Conner's flat tone told Evan that he was not playing games.

"You want 'em?" Evan grinned wickedly, and Conner knew what he was about to do. "Then go and get-" Before he could throw them, Conner's hand grabbed Evan's wrist at an amazing speed. The three bullies looked stunned.

"Mr. Kent! Mr. Rossi! Mr. Grable! Mr. Farwin! Miss Avocet! You all better not be fooling around over there!" Mr. Pacer's voice was so loud and booming that it made the whole class look over.

"No, of course not, Mr. Pacer," Toni said with a sweet and innocent smile. She wasn't very pretty, at least not compared to the girls Conner knew, but Mr. Pacer nodded and turned away.

"Here," Evan said as he sloppily tossed Logan's glasses at Conner, who caught them with ease. "Choke on 'em."

Conner frowned and handed Logan his glasses. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, I thought they'd break them," Logan said with his usual bright smile. Conner wondered how someone who was so cheerful and kind could be bullied so often.

"So!" Logan rubbed his hands together. "Let's do this."

Conner flipped open to the page with the procedure on it and read step one. He held the small tube while Logan put in the chemicals. There were many different flasks, each color coded and labeled with hazard warnings probably placed there by Mr. Pacer himself. First, he picked up the potassium iodine and carefully poured it into the tube Conner was holding, mindful of Mr. Pacer's ever watchful gaze. Then, he picked up the flask labeled "silver nitrate".

"Carefully add the silver nitrate to the potassium iodine. This mixture is toxic, so be careful and hold it away from you. Take notes on your observations." When Logan finished reading, he added the silver nitrate. Instantly, the mixture started foaming.

"That doesn't look right," Logan said. Suddenly, it turned brown and foamy, and the contents rose up at an alarming rate, causing foam to spill all over Conner's hand. It made a loud hissing sound, and Conner's nostrils were filled with a nasty chemical stench. Logan gasped and stepped back, and other kids looked over at their station, shocked at the steamy solution.

Conner had no choice. He dropped the tube on the ground and shook his hand, feigning pain. The tube smashed with a loud sound and the foamy mixture go all over the floor, growing bigger still. Suddenly, there was white foam covering the brown one and Conner turned to see Mr. Pacer standing there with a fire extinguisher that was as red as his face.

"So!" he shouted, and the class went silent. "You two thought it would be fun to blow some bubbles in my class, hmm?" Neither Conner nor Logan dared to respond. This only angered the teacher even more. "Which one of you was it mixing the chemicals?" Silence. "Well?" He turned to glare at Logan, who was miniscule compared to this giant of a man. Logan's face turned white and Conner could hear his heartbeat quicken so much that Mr. Pacer must have been able to hear it as well.

"I was."

Mr. Pacer turned on Conner, who stared back at him, trying to maintain a stoic expression.

"Well then. I believe that the principal would love to hear about this."

The Daily Planet

Clark was one of the only people he knew who actually followed the speed limit. He got a lot of grief from Conner and Lois for always going so slow, but Clark liked taking his time. Nowadays people are so anxious to get to where they're going that they don't slow down and enjoy the ride. Lois thought that it was utterly hilarious that Clark, who could run and fly at an amazing speed, liked to drive slowly.

"When someone is in danger, then I'll run as fast as possible," Clark once told her. "But when I can, I like to go on my own time."

Conner, of course, thought this was absolutely ridiculous. "We have power, so we might as well use it. Besides, no one follows the speed limit anymore." Conner had said while rolling his eyes.

"Who told you that?" Clark had asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Robin."

"What a surprise," Clark had mumbled. Conner laughed.

Clark smiled as he recalled the memory. Conner had once been tolerable, but now he was a nightmare. He had no idea what was wrong with him- his disobedience had gotten out of control. No, it had gotten out of control months ago- now it was far beyond Clark's reach. He sighed. What on Earth was he going to do about that boy? Lois always told him to be patient, to just talk to him, but that never worked. Conner never listened. One of these days, Conner would take it too far and Clark would snap. Then what?

Ever since had agreed to train Conner, Clark had worries. He knew that their relationship would go beyond that of mentor and apprentice. He was always reassured by his fellow Leaguers, particularly those with protégés. He was mainly told to be understanding and patient, which he already was. Aquaman told him to keep and open ear, Green Arrow told him to be encouraging and give lots of compliments, Flash told him to keep a sharp eye, J'onn told him to speak with him consistently in order to maintain their personal relationship, and Batman told him to make sure that Conner knew he was in charge and to keep him in check. But the most helpful advice was from his parents.

"Havin' kids ain't easy," Pa told him. "There are good times and bad times, ask any one of your friends. But that doesn't mean you give up on 'em. Sometimes, you gotta stick it out. For family."

Clark sighed as he pulled into the parking garage for the Daily Planet. He wondered how much longer he could stick it out.

When he had parked, Clark took out his briefcase and checked his watch. He was twelve minutes late. He groaned and hurried toward the elevator.

He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited and got anxious. Perry was very strict, and although it was only by twelve minutes, he did not like it when his reporters were late. He liked to pick on Clark especially, since he acted meek in front of his co-workers. Ever since Lois found out he was Superman, she had thought it was funny how Clark was always slightly hunched over and spoke quietly. Everyone else thought it was funny, but not for the same reasons.

Finally, the elevator arrived and Clark jumped on, pressing the floor where he worked. He quickly went over his agenda for the day; write the article on the break in at the power plant, listen to Lois brag about how she was writing an article on Superman' victory against Atomic Skull the other day, prep for the press conference at LexCorp on Friday, possibly get yelled at by Perry, and keep an eye and ear out for trouble.

When the elevator let him off, Clark was met with the usual loud ringing of phones, scattered paper, people shouting while running back and forth, typing computers and hum of printers. He looked around and spotted Lois standing over her desk, who immediately looked up and waved to him. He smiled and gave her a small wave. He was on his way over when suddenly Perry blocked his way.

"Where the heck have you been, Kent?"

"Sorry, Mr. White, I-"

"You're late! And in case you've forgotten, I need that article on the power plant break in pronto!"

"Right, I-"

"Go get to it, Kent!"

Clark sighed. "Yes sir." He hurried around Perry and toward Lois's desk.

"Morning, chief." He heard Jimmy say to Perry from behind him.

"Don't call me chief!" Perry snapped back like always. Clark heard him retreating to his office. The door slammed right as he and Jimmy made it over to Lois's desk.

"He's in a real mood," she said with a raised eyebrow.

"To be fair, this was the third time this week I got in late." Clark said as he took off his fedora and ran his hand through his dark hair.

"Like it matters. Eight minutes is nothing."

"It was fifteen minutes, Lois."

"Fifteen minutes! You're lucky he doesn't sue you, Smallville!" She exclaimed.

"Ha, ha." Clark said sarcastically as Jimmy laughed.

"Maybe you wouldn't be late if you started driving like a normal person," Lois said as she organized some papers on her desk.

"You still drive like an old man?" Jimmy asked. "Get with the century, Clark."

"People need to follow all of the laws, even the small ones." Clark responded. Lois and Jimmy exchanged looks.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Lois said as she put her arms around his neck. Jimmy glanced at the ceiling with a smile on his face. Her voice lowered. "That's just something you would say." Clark knew who Lois meant when she said 'you'.

"Kent! I don't have that paper yet!"

"I'm on it!" Clark hurried over to his desk and pulled up the partially finished article on his computer.

"Olsen! I want those pictures!" Perry called. Jimmy jumped about a foot and started fumbling with his camera as he hurried over to the chief.

Clark sighed and started where he had left off. Suddenly, he felt Lois's hand rest on his, stopping it mid-type.

"How are things?" She asked quietly.

"They've been better."

"That bad, huh?"

"You're good."

"I know. Now start explaining."

Clark sighed. "Lois, I… I just don't know what to do."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Yes. Well…." She gave him a look. "I tried to."

"Want me to talk to him?" Clark chuckled darkly. "What?" Lois asked, clearly offended.

"Well, Lois, if I can't get through to him I doubt you could." Lois's face darkened.

"Hey, I-"

"Hold on." Clark stood up with a serious and concentrated look on his face.

"What? What is it?" Lois sounded concerned.

Clark listened intently, determined to identify the familiar sound. He heard the sound of people screaming then being muffled, and crashing.

Clark blinked then turned to Lois. "I'll cover you." She said as he opened his mouth. He smiled at her then dashed out of the offices and down the stairs. When he had gotten out of the building, he slipped into an alley. Seconds later, Superman was flying over Metropolis.

He followed the sound of screaming and crashing and found himself flying toward what appeared to be an old storage building by the Metropolis Bridge. Superman stopped many yards above the building and used his x-ray vision to see who today's opponent would be.

He watched as the security guards tried to shoot at the invader to no avail. The purple figure marched right into the bullets, which didn't seem to bother him, then grabbed their guns right out of their hands. The figure tossed them aside and then grabbed the each guard's face. Superman watched as the struggling men clawed at the purple man's grip on their faces, and then went limp. Their unconscious bodies were dropped to the ground and the figure turned.

"Parasite." Superman muttered. He couldn't get one of the easier ones today.

He flew straight through the skylight and slowly eased himself downwards so that he was floating at a safe distance above the super villain. Parasite turned and looked at the Man of Steel, clearly amused.

"Finally, some real action!" He exclaimed as he rubbed his wrinkled purple hands together.

"Parasite, I will give you one chance to stop this now and turn yourself in so we don't have any more unnecessary-"

"Blah, blah, blah! Let's get this over with, Superman; since you didn't bring the brat, you're my appetizer for today." He grinned his stretchy, deformed grin and leapt at the Man of Steel.

Superman flew many yards out of his reach. If there was one villain who he and Conner could not take on together, it was Parasite. Conner, who didn't have heat vision or super breath, had to rely on physical attacks, which didn't really help when it came to Parasite. Superman has had to speak to him more than once on this, but Conner always rolled his eyes and said, "We got him, didn't we?"

Superman pried a metal beam off of its place on a shelf and used it to fend of Parasite. After a few swings, the creature was able to grab it from Superman and fling it away. Parasite laughed at Superman's shocked expression.

"I've retained some of your super strength from our last dance," he said with a smile. As if to prove this, Parasite leapt at the Man of Steel, sending him reeling backwards. Superman instantly felt himself becoming weak as Parasite drained him of his strength. He grunted and twisted wildly as he tried to pull Parasite of off him to no avail. He could hear the super villain laughing like a maniac as he slowly drained all of his strength. Finally, Superman backed up slightly, then rammed into a wall, crushing Parasite.

Parasite grunted in pain, then slid to the floor. Superman took a few steps away from the monster, too exhausted to fly. He stared at Parasite's unconscious form for a few seconds as he tried to think of a way to pick him up without touching him. Suddenly, Superman heard police sirens coming and turned his head to look in the direction they were coming from. He sighed happily when he saw the special containment truck marked Striker's Island; this meant he would save time by not having to carry Parasite there himself. He didn't know how long Lois would be able to cover for him before Perry got on her case. Superman turned and prepared to fly back to the Daily Planet when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

He whirled around to see Parasite slowly pulling himself up from the ground. Superman watched as the villain's broken limbs were stretched back into their normal positions with sickening crunching sounds. Finally, Parasite straightened his head and grinned gravely at the Man of Steel. Superman took a defensive step back and suddenly remembered J'onn telling him about his run in with Parasite a few months back.

"This ain't over yet, Superman." Parasite lunged at him, sending jabs and punches that only hit thin air. Superman, who was still weak, dodged them and tried to desperately think of a plan. Finally, one came.

Superman leapt up in the air and flew straight through the roof of the warehouse. "Oh, no you don't! This ain't over till I got your head on my wall!" Superman heard the sound of Parasite leaping into the air and flying after him. As he flew, he made sure Parasite followed behind him by keeping track of his heartbeat. Finally, they came to the Metropolis Bridge.

Superman flew in a straight line and then suddenly went straight down into the water, where he flew all the way to the bottom and hid behind a few large rocks. He heard a splash as Parasite dove in after him. Superman looked through the rocks to see Parasite looking around, trying to find and possibly kill his opponent. Superman ducked down and waited.

Finally, he felt it; the lack of sunlight in the dark water was making him weaker, which meant it was doing the same to Parasite. He would have to act fast. Suddenly, the rocks Superman was hiding behind exploded into rubble and there was Parasite floating in front of him.

Thermal vision, Superman thought. Now or never.

He flew straight up out of the water and hovered over the Metropolis Bridge. As he had expected, Parasite shot out of the water and went straight at him. Superman flew toward the bridge and landed on it gently; Parasite's landing was visibly heavier, creating a crater in the ground. Cars swerved and honked and went in all directions. Superman did the best he could to speed around and keep them from hitting each other. Behind him, Parasite laughed.

Superman spun on him with his fists raised. Parasite turned around and grabbed the nearest car, lifting it over his head. The driver scrambled out and ran away screaming as Parasite threw the vehicle at the Man of Steel. Superman readied himself for the hit and grabbed the car as it flew at him. He threw it back at Parasite, surprise evident on the super villain's face. Parasite caught the car and staggered back slightly off put by the car's weight. He scowled at Superman and crushed the car over his head. He slammed it on the pavement in front of him in anger. His face contorted and then suddenly relaxed. He laughed.

"Is that the best you got?" Superman just glared at him. Parasite frowned. "You're getting too tired for me, Superman. Maybe next time I'll go for some younger targets." The mad man grinned and Clark felt his anger flare up when he realized what Parasite meant.

"No, this is." He looked at the fluid leaking from the wrecked car in front of Parasite and triggered his heat vision. The car instantly went up in flames. Parasite let out a cry and fell to the ground, getting weaker by the second. Superman slowly strode over to Parasite and glared down at him. He raised his fist and Parasite flinched.

Suddenly, police sirens could be heard and Superman turned. That was all Parasite needed; he scrambled away and to the edge of the bridge. "Next time, Boy Scout." He said bitterly. Parasite jumped and disappeared into the water.

Superman contemplated going after him, but the sirens were getting closer and he didn't know how long Lois could cover for him. Superman sighed and flew away.

The Daily Planet

"There you are! I told Perry you were in the bathroom with heart burn."

"Gee, Lois, you're a life saver," Clark said bitterly.

"Hey, I didn't have to cover for you, you know."

Clark sighed and took off his hat. He sank down into his chair and put his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry. I appreciate it, Lois."

He heard her voice soften. "Well?"

"Parasite."

"And?"

Clark moaned.

"Ah."

"Kent!" Clark's head snapped up and he jumped out of his chair, knocking over papers at the same time.

"Um, yes Perry?"

"I still don't have the article on the power plant break in! I don't care if you do have indigestion, that is big news and I want that paper by noon!"

"Yes, Perry." Clark tugged at his tie as he felt his face grow hot.

"And you, Miss Lane- Superman just fought with Parasite on the Metropolis Bridge! I want a report on it within the next hour!" Perry turned and headed back to his office.

"Alright, chief."

"Don't call me chief!"

Lois chuckled as Perry slammed the door to his office. "Ah, the joys of working for a newspaper. Articles to write, deadlines to meet, bosses to please…." She glanced at Clark. "You, of course, can type at super speeds, so you don't need to worry about that." Lois noticed that Clark was giving her a stern look. "What?"

"Indigestion?"

She smiled and shrugged.

"You are never covering for me again." Clark deadpanned.

Lois laughed and headed toward her desk.

"I mean it!" Clark called after her.

He sighed and collapsed in his chair. He was not having a good day so far. Clark pulled off his large horn rimmed glasses and rubbed his face. Just finish the article, and you'll be done. Perry will be out of your hair, you can go pick Conner up from school and then relax for the rest of the day.

Clark took a deep breath and sat up. He brought up the article on his computer and started to type. He wanted nothing more than to finish it, but there was always someone dashing past his desk and he didn't want to risk anyone seeing him speed typing.

Finally, after half an hour, Clark made it to the last paragraph. He snuck a look to see if anyone was watching, and, as fast as he could, finished the paper. With a triumphant smile, Clark cracked his knuckles and leaned back. He saved his paper and was about to press print when he smelled the best smell that had ever existed in all of humanity; coffee.

Clark glanced at his computer, then toward the break room, then back at his computer. "Gah!" he said as temptation became him and he jumped up and headed toward the break room (and more importantly, the coffee).

Clark was glad to see that the break room was empty. He spotted the mostly filled pot of coffee and made his way over to it. He grabbed a mug and filled it to the top, something he told Conner never to do since the Thanksgiving Incident.

Clark slowly lifted up the mug and closed his eyes as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of coffee. Suddenly, he heard the sound of someone coming into the break room. Clark's nose was instantly filled with aftershave and Axe, and a lot of it. Clark moaned; it could only be one person- Steve Lombard.

"Ah!" Lombard said as he stretched his arms and their always visible muscles above his head. "'Bought time we got a fresh pot up in here!" Clark frowned and lowered his coffee mug; it would be better if he wasn't holding a mugful of piping hot coffee while Lombard was within fifty feet of him.

"There 'e is, the man of the hour!" Lombard clapped one of his large hands onto Clark's back. He pretended to flinch. "So," Lombard said as he hung his arm around Clark's neck and pulled him closer than Clark would have liked. "The big day is almost here. How're ya feelin', big guy?" Lombard shook Clark slightly, as if to get his attention, causing his glasses to go crooked.

"Fine," Clark said rigidly as he adjusted his glasses.

"Fine?" Lombard looked appalled. "Just fine? And to think, you hooked yourself a lady like Lois Lane. So, give any thought to who your best man is going to be?" Lombard asked casually as he studied his fingernails.

Clark mentally sighed. Not this again. "Listen, Lom- Steve, I told you, my best man is going to be my son, Conner-"

"Ah, come on, Kent, you can't have your son be the best man!"

Clark felt himself becoming defensive. "Why not?" He asked with a scowl clear on his face.

"Well," Lombard said in a professional tone as he counted on his fingers. "First off, a thirteen year old's not gonna know how to throw a good bachelor party. Second, kids aren't too trustworthy- I mean you wouldn't want 'im to lose Lois's ring now, would you? And speakin' o' Lois, I dunno how she would feel about her soon-to-be-husband's son being the best man. 'Sides, I met that kid, and he didn't seem like the type that would be able to give a good speech, if ya know what I mean." Lombard nudged him a little.

Clark's scowl had grown deeper with each 'reason'. He took a deep breath to compose himself. "First off," Clark started, "Lois adores Conner, who, by the way, is sixteen. Second, I don't want a bachelor party of any kind. Third, Conner is the most trustworthy person I know. And fourth, he happens to have a fantastic speech prepared." Clark took Lombard's arm and undraped it from around his neck. "But thanks anyway." Clark enjoyed the look of disbelief and slight anger on Lombard's face as he turned and made his way out of the break room.

"Hey, Kent!" Clark turned around. "You forgot your coffee." Lombard held up the mug filled to the top with the black liquid. Clark went over and took the mug. He smiled widely. "Thank you." Lombard grinned back and nodded. Clark turned and walked out, wondering why Lombard was smiling.

Outside of the break room door, Lois Lane was leaning against the wall, smiling. Clark's eyebrows rose. "How long were you standing there?" He asked her. "Long enough," she responded. She went up to Clark, put her hands on his shoulders, and planted a quick yet deep kiss on his mouth.

"What was that for?" Clark asked gleefully when she pulled back. Lois smiled mysteriously, turned on her heel, and walked away. Clark watched her with a grin. Suddenly, Jimmy was in front of him and completely out of breath.

"Perry… report… plant… break-in… really…mad!" Jimmy panted. Clark gasped. "Right! I need to hand that in to him!"

Clark hurried back to his desk as fast as he could without spilling any of his coffee. He shook the mouse to wake up his sleeping computer and was about to press print when he heard Perry's voice.

"Kent!"

"Yes, Perry?"

"I want that article!"

"I was just about to send it you, sir!"

"Good! And don't call me sir!"

"Yes sir- I mean ch- I- uh, okay!"

Perry turned and headed back to his office. Clark sighed with relief and finally took a drink of his coffee- and immediately spit it out. Clark broke into a coughing fit and doubled over at the awful flavor- it had gotten a bit warm, but….

Suddenly, Clark's ears were filled with a crackling sound. He opened his eyes to see his spilled coffee mug all over his keyboard and computer. He watched in horror as the screen with his article on it slowly went black.

"No!" Clark exclaimed, typing furiously. The computer would not turn on. "No! No, no, no, no, NO!" Clark collapsed onto his chair in defeat. Then, something caught his eyes- a damp cigarette was lying in the spilled coffee. Clark picked it up and looked at it for a few seconds. His face darkened. Lombard. Clark's fist closed around the cigarette and he squeezed until it was dust in his hand.

"Now what?" Clark muttered to himself. His article was gone and he had just told Perry he had it. Just tell him your computer short circuited, he'll understand. Yeah, right. It was Perry.

Clark sighed- he felt he had be doing a lot of it lately- and got out a piece of paper and his notebook. He would have to write the article by hand.

A few minutes later, Clark's phone rang. He leaned over and picked it up. "Clark Kent," he answered as he continued to write.

"Mr. Kent, this is Principal Cavill. I'm calling about your son, Conner."

Clark sat up straight and grabbed the phone with both hands. "Has something happened?" He asked anxiously.

"Yes. I believe that Conner has violated the school's safety code by causing an explosion in Chemistry class."

"An explosion?" Clark was dumbfounded. What kind of chemicals did they keep in these schools?

"It was very minor, no one was hurt, but the chemicals mixed were deadly, and the results could have been toxic. We're asking that you come over here right away so we may speak about it."

"Yes, I'll be right there." Seconds later, Clark was out the door.

Comments? How did I do with the characters? Fights scenes are hard to write. REVIEW!