Clark Kent strummed his fingers on his knee. He could count on a few of them the amount of time he had ever had butterflies, and now he could add a pinky. For Gotham, Leslie Thompkins's apartment starkly contrasted the gothic, brutalist, and Tim Burton fever dream outside. It was a two bed, two bath, accented in Alice blue and Roux white. The decor had a modern sensibility, but the paintings lining the walls and photographs spotting here and there made it homie. On Zillow, it would make a great steal if Zillow dared to list anything in Gotham. Clark had particularly smiled at a picture of Leslie, standing between a beautiful red-headed bride in a decked-out wheelchair, lilac laced around her spokes and a sharp-looking groom, his Biscayne blue's elevating his boy next door smile.
"You made a very handsome usher," Leslie stood between the kitchen linoleum and the living room's hardwood. She was a petite woman with silver hair, sloppily bundled on her head, and chocolate brown eyes framed in cat-rimmed glasses. She could be the aunt who tells you a bawdy joke at the family Christmas party or your mom's best friend whose advice you take even when your parents say the same thing.
"That was a fun night," Clark started.
"For the world's greatest introvert, Bruce knows how to throw a party." The kettle whistled for attention, and Leslie called over her shoulder.
"You and Lois certainly know how to cut a rug."
"You and Alfred were no slouches either, Doctor Thompkins."
"Clark."
"Sorry. Leslie." She returned with twin mugs of tea.
"You Midwestern boys and your politeness. It's a warm welcome from GET OUT OF THE WAY OR ALL BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF!"
"Rush hour in Metropolis has its fair share of angry drivers, too."
"It was the Supermarket." Leslie placed her mug on a coaster, and as she handed the other to the former journalist,
"Careful, it's ho—" She remembered,
"Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to." Clark thanked her as he laced the tea in his hands. Leslie situated herself, the coffee table dividing them.
"You don't take notes?" Clark asked.
"No. I find it too distracting."
"I wouldn't X-ray them if you did."
"Saves me from buying led lined note pads." She winked at the farm boy.
"Just a reminder: Nothing is off the table. No emotion is unwarranted. I have insurance, so if you want to start zapping things, please direct it at the ugly string art my cousin Dorothy got me from Tucson." Clark spotted it across the room.
"It must be exciting, being the Superheroes' therapist."
Leslie laughed.
"Thinking about maybe getting my own costume. But seriously, behind the capes and the superpowers, your people, too."
"Even if you come from another planet," she added.
"Having teenagers, I feel the same way. Usually, I would go to my mom or Bruce for advice, but he said you would be a better fit."
"You and Him became very close," Leslie observed.
"Almost twenty years. I always hate it when people call us frenemies. Bruce is one of my best friends; he would technically be Jordan's Godfather if Me and Lois were the religious type. I wasn't always thrilled with his choices, especially when he brought Dick into the fight, but the kid turned out great, as did the others."
"I think it would be fair to say you helped keep that boy's cheeks rosy. You came up with Nightwing, didn't you?" Clark chuckled at the Question.
"Yes, like you said, though, I just helped. But I have two full-time boys and don't know what I'm doing." Clark caught the H word. He rarely used a damn, but it felt honest.
"Once again, Clark, you are no different than any parent today. Bruce has not been perfect. But we're not here to compare the Dark Knight and the Man of Steel but to talk about you." Clark took a long sip of hot green, choosing his following words.
"I wasn't around as much as I should have, with the boys, between the Planet, Metropolis, and the literal planet. I remember missing their seventh birthday. I had to lie and tell them I had to work on a scoop out of town."
"What were you actually doing?" Leslie asked.
"Stopping a forest fire in California. But let me tell you, the disappointment in their faces was a lot more scorching. Especially Jordan."
"Jordon is where you're finding the most contention?"
"Yes and No. I don't want to minimize Jonathan. I took him from the only home he knows; he and his girlfriend broke up, and there's a huge possibility he may never have powers. He called Smallville his Kryptonite."
"And what did you do?"
"I pulled the typical parental platitudes. You tell yourself you will be different from your folks, and then you open your mouth…" Leslie nodded.
"And Jordan?"
The former journalist sat back.
"The kid is dealing with social anxiety, developing powers, and there's no telling what he's capable of. I feel like I'm making it worse, and Jordan confirmed it loudly." Leslie pressed on, and Clark explained to her about everything, including taking Jordan to the Fortress, how his father made the kid feel inadequate, how he was struggling with the heat vision, the strength, Jonathan's passive-aggressive resentment, not to mention puberty was in the periphery.
"Elsa's Ice castle?" They both shared a smile.
"I sent him to his room. Standard procedure in our house."
"No, it's a good way to diffuse tension. It allows you to compartmentalize and figure out your next move. I assume you talked after?"
"Yes. And it was great. I got a smile out of him until he got mad for something else, and it feels like the entire board gets erased."
"He's a teenager, Clark. I'm not excusing any rudeness, but I think it's great you give both your boys a little grace when expressing themselves. Some parents are too quick to jump at the smallest inflection in the voice or movement in the face."
"My parents were good about those things, too. I can lift a submarine, break the sound barrier, and kick Kalibak's backside across Metropolis, but Jordan…" He trailed off.
"Jordan doesn't need to be saved, Clark," Leslie finished.
"I didn't say that."
"But that was where the bus was stopping. When you speak of Jonathan, it's a more typical teenager. Having to move, new school, new football team—"
"Jordan's powers—"
"You keep saying that too. I have a question for you." Clark nodded.
"Would you have preferred that Jonathan had the powers instead of Jordan?" she caught his hesitation but waited.
"I don't have a favorite, Leslie." It was more forced than intended, but the therapist's resolve did not waver.
"That's not what I asked Clark. I'll rephrase: Would it have been better If Jonathan had the powers." Leslie hit a nerve, no small feat. He wouldn't look into her eyes, staring down at the tea bag at the bottom of his mug.
"Jonathan, he has his flaws, and like I said, I have my shortcomings with him, but I get him. That sounds horrible. "
"No, it doesn't, Clark. It sounds honest. Keep going."
"I suck at articulating myself."
"You're doing fine. We'll get every piece in the puzzle in its place."
"When I told them my secret, Jordon accused me of wanting John to have the powers instead of him. I take responsibility for not considering it; it was just the hurt in his eyes, the hurt in both their eyes. Honestly, I was hoping neither of them would have them. These abilities come with a price. I've lost a lot along the way. You have enough on your plate without putting on a costume."
"Clark, I can tell you don't have a favorite. You have a different relationship, no more, no less, just different," Leslie sipped.
"It's not like Jordan and I have nothing in common. We have the same sense of humor, share the same favorite flavor of ice cream, and love Stephen King novels. I can go on, but the older he got, the more separated we got, and now we share this huge thing." Clark paused for a moment. Lesley waited with a saint's patience.
"I'm not worried Jordan will level a town or become a supervillain. Lois has always been his anker when it came to his mental health. She was able to quell every tantrum and talk him through every anxiety attack; I was lucky if I could make it to one of his therapy sessions. His brother even has a better grasp of what's going on."
"I'm sure you, well, maybe training is not the best word, but coaching him with these abilities?"
"Yes, of course, and it's helped us get closer. It's just…"
"The unpredictability. I'll repeat Clark; he's a teenager. They are figuring things out as they go along; they aren't in the eye of the storm; they are the storm, social anxiety, superpowers or not. You are capable of such great feats, Clark. You can stop a building from burning with your freeze breath and weld the beams of broken bridges with your fire eyes…" Clark nodded while cracking a smile.
"But Jordan is not a burning building, a broken bridge, or even a cat in a tree. He's a young man like you once were figuring out his place in the world, and good fortune to him has a more developed support system." Clarks' brow lifted.
"Don't get me wrong, your parents were the gold standard. They took a baby, and not just any baby, one that fell from the sky and raised him with unconditional love and helped him develop his gifts when they didn't know what the heck they were doing, and when you became a man, they supported you becoming a hero. Your mother made you your first costume. You won a lottery anyone would dream to cash in." The farm boy shelved his brow, taking in this information as quickly as his cup of tea.
"From what you've told me, the boys are acclimating to small-town life. Jonathan has made new friends and met a new girl, and Jordon is coming out of his shell and through his abilities. You teaching him it's bringing you two closer together, not further apart. You told me your powers are driven by emotion; that's something you can relate to with Jordan. that's your way in, and you can bounce off each other." Clark was about to respond—
"But what if—"
"Nope. What if Jordan zapped someone on the field? What if Jonathan blew up in that trailer? What ifs are bread and butter to intrusive thoughts, and I sympathize with you having them; we all do. My understanding, Clark, is that a lot of these insecurities you have stemmed from Kara and, not to be too blunt, Loise's miscarriage." That caught the Man of Steel off guard, but I remembered Lois talked to Leslie years ago.
"I feel like I abandoned her."
"You were a young man in his early twenties, finding his place in the world. Not to mention introducing yourself to that world as Superman. No one could expect you to take care of a ten-year-old girl. You gave her to a family that helped her thrive, and she has become a remarkable young woman and hero in her own right. Regardless of sharing the same crest as her cousin, it wasn't as if you flew away from her life; you still visited and kept in touch."
"And Lois?"
"You both went through something that many have gone through. It is horrible and immeasurable painful, and though you both may never heal completely from such a loss, you and Lois have been fantastic parents to those boys despite the fact you are not always going to get it right." This was a lot for Clark to process, and he could see the session would soon be up on the clock.
"I know I've given you the cliff notes version, and this has been a lot for a preliminary consultation, but I promise you if you come to see me, Clark, with an absolute understanding that you have two lives to juggle, I will help you navigate both sides to the best of my ability."
"I would like that, Leslie. I've never been this open with someone except for Lois, and I keep feeling inadequate."
"Clark honey. What you need to learn is acceptance. You see, you're trying to solve everything with Superman instead of Clark Kent, the husband and father. You have a civilian for a reason. Jordon is going to be working with his anxiety for the rest of his life; it isn't going to go away. You can't protect him from it like you protect a civilian from criminals. The same goes for Jonathan." He nods.
"You think you're so alone, Clark, another thing you and Jordon have in common. Truthfully, you are going through what many men, parents, and human beings have gone through together. Trust me, I worked in Arkham. I have had sessions with nuisances like Condiment King down the abyss with that evil fucking clown. I have seen hell in human form, and it wears a tacky purple suit. You have seen the embodiment of greed and xenophobia, and you've come out on the other side a better person, but you have to accept that you can't be invincible all the time and put away the cape when you need to." Clark wiped his eyes as the clock chimed.
"Now that I've talked your ear off. We will schedule our next session during the week and continue discussing this as much as we need to." They both stood.
"Thank you, Leslie." Clark hugged the tiny woman, and she hugged just as tight.
The End
Authors Note: Hey, Cakes and Cookies! This story takes place during season 1. I wish they had kept S&L in the Arrowverse and pushed it into the future; it would have made some exciting stories.
For the sake of this story, S&L is in the Arrowverse. Batman never disappeared from Gotham, no disrespect to my beloved Batwomen ❤️ Now, as someone in Therapy, I know this is not how a consultation necessarily works. Leslie and Clark know each other beforehand, and the fact it's fiction don't overthink. I think people are hard on Clark; he's a great dad. He's not perfect by any means, but that makes him realistic. The idea to make Leslie Thompkins a therapist comes from Titans (2018), and if I could cast her, she would be played by Paula Pell.