Title: Small Town Boys
Fandom: Superman & Lois
Rating: PG
Length: 1023 words
Content notes: Spoilers for the Pilot, Discussion of canon death of a minor character

Summary: Jon and Jordan observe a new horizon. Set early in the Pilot, before the funeral of Martha Kent.



Jonathan Kent doesn’t believe in ghosts. Not the floating, see-through poltergeist kind, anyway. But it does seem like there’s an extra presence in the farmhouse.

Grief thickens the atmosphere. He can’t see it, but he feels it. It moves from room to room; sits down at the kitchen table in his grandmother’s empty chair. Dad is too quiet. Mom’s focused on the funeral arrangements, attacking everything from caskets to flowers with a strident precision.

When it all gets a little too heavy, Jon heads out the front door to the porch.

The steps are already occupied. Jordan turns to look at him and gives him a slight smile. Looks like they’re thinking alike, again.

Jon takes a deep breath of fresh air before addressing his twin. “What are you doing?”

Jordan shrugs. He has his phone, but the screen is dark as it sits idle on the step beside him. He seems to be just sitting, staring out at the horizon over the fields. “Just thinking, I guess.”

“Sounds dangerous. Shouldn’t do that alone.” Jon steps closer, ignoring the eye roll he gets in response. “Scoot over,” he says, needlessly. Jordan is already sliding to his right to make space. Jon settles beside him, close enough that their knees knock together.

For several minutes, they just sit. The cloudless sky allows the sun overhead to be a too-bright intruder on such a sad day. And the horizon is not that interesting. Jon soon focuses on Jordan again. He nudges his shoulder. “You okay?”

Jordan squints toward the barn. “Yeah.”

“It’s okay if you’re not, you know. It’s kind of a lot.”

Truth be told, he’s expecting a breakdown. Jordan’s anxiety can be unpredictable, but high-stress situations are pretty much guaranteed to rattle him. Death, Jon figures, is the highest of high stressors.

But Jordan seems okay. He’s fidgeting a little, tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie, but that’s the only hint of discomfort. He gives Jon a half-smile and nods at the field. “I like it out here. It’s so…open.”

“Empty,” Jon says at the same time.

They stare at each other.

Jordan’s smile broadens. “Peaceful.”

“Boring.”

“Pretty.”

Jon hesitates. It is kind of pretty. “Handsome?”

Jordan lets out a snort of laughter. Jon grins.

“Seriously, though. I like it here. I know it’s slow, and quiet, but…it’s so calm.”

Jon nods. Calm is a precious commodity to his brother. He knows there are calming apps on Jordan’s phone, but they don’t seem to do much for him. He usually chooses the distraction of video games instead. Jon thinks he’s trying to drown everything out. But in the city, he doesn’t have the option of quiet scenery like this.

“I always liked coming here, too,” Jon admits.

Jordan looks skeptical. “You? Mister ‘Go to Smallville; spend a full year in an afternoon’?”

“Yeah, yeah; so I’m not a small town boy. I may not like the pace of life here. But I love spending time with Grandma.” He pauses, then softly corrects himself. “Loved.”

Jordan hums. “Yeah. Grandma was the best. She always knew what to say.”

“She could always make us laugh, no matter how bad our day.”

“You remember the time she broke out the old photo albums?”

Jon smirked. “Dad’s baby pictures.”

“She was the best at telling stories.”

The only time Jon could remember seeing her sad was when their vacations ended. As they drove away, Jon would look back to see her standing on this very porch, arms wrapped around herself and tears on her cheeks. Still, she’d smile as she waved goodbye.

How could he have ever not wanted to visit? Just because he didn’t care for Smallville? He had cared for Grandma. And now he’d never get to tell her that again.

The farm blurs as his eyes fill.

“Hey.” Jordan presses close and slides a hand across John’s shoulders. “It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know.”

Jon huffs. “Stealing my lines,” he complains, but his voice betrays him, cracking on the last word.

Jordan tugs him into a hug. “I miss her too.”

Jon tips his head, letting his forehead fit into the crook of his brother’s neck. He shuts his eyes and feels a couple of tears escape. He hears Jordan’s breathing hitch as he rubs Jon’s back.

After a few minutes, when his own breathing is steadier, Jon opens his eyes and blinks, forcing the tears away until he can see the fields clearly again. “Do you think she’s watching us?”

“I hope not.”

Startled, Jon pulls back to look at Jordan questioningly.

“I mean, I hope she doesn’t see us sad,” Jordan clarifies. His eyes look damp. “I hope that where she is, there’s no more sadness.”

“Oh.” Jon remembers Grandma taking them to church when they were little, recalls holding her hand and singing about heaven. He swallows the lump in his throat. “I hope that, too.”

A few days later, Jon will follow his brother to this porch step again. It’ll be too dark to see much of the fields, and he’ll be the one doing the comforting. Their Dad will be Superman, Jordan will have powers, and nothing will ever be the same again.

But in this moment, the calm in the grief before the storm, the wind is already shifting. Jordan is the strong one, and Jon is reconsidering the horizon.

He doesn’t know what the future holds. It occurs to him that they might not come back to Smallville anymore, with Grandma gone. He’s surprised to find that thought disappointing. This place is in Dad’s heart, it’s soothing Jordan’s anxiety. It’s in his family’s blood.

“It really is peaceful here,” he says. And he wonders if there’s a bit of small town boy in him, after all.